Vigilantes (Sequel to Masquerade)
by DJ Dubois
Summary: A gala at the Cloisters Museum turns deadly as an old friend of Henry's is murdered drawing him and Jo into a firestorm between figures from his past, Reece and the NYPD not to mention the FBI itself. How will Henry and Jo get to the bottom of this most unusual case? R and R!
1. Musings from Henry's Journal

Vigilantes (Sequel to "Masquerade")  
>DJ Dubois<p>

January 2015

Notes: The characters from Forever belong to ABC. All other characters are fictional and of my own creation. Please send comments to dante0220  .

Introduction

_From the Journal of Henry Morgan….._

_Entry dated April 17, 2015 [New York City]_

_Events continue to move forward for Jo and me in all regards. As she continues to adjust to our immortal lifestyle, our lives intertwine increasingly. Our cases have never gone smoother. The walks in the park and duck feeding sessions invigorate us. I've rediscovered some of my older culinary skills which admittedly have languished with Abe's fantastic cooking._

_Even Adam has not bothered us in months…. That in itself is a blessing…._

_Truly this is a time of bliss. I know I should not question such things but I have a gut feeling that something was about to happen…._

…_and just a week ago, my past came calling once more…._

_The Cloisters Museum received a prestigious loan from the Sorbonne—a rare sixteenth century text. Rumor had it that the book was some sort of demonic grimoire. Pure balderdash, I say… And yet it attracted attention. The Met had put together a panel to speak at the opening. Two of them were, as it turns out, old friends. The third, David Dubois, I met briefly as a boy…._

…_a boy with strange connections to say the least…._

_As I said before, the book's rumored past was bantered about. It attracted attention of the unsavory variety. One of these characters would turn the celebration on its ear bringing Dubois into direct conflict with Lieutenant Reece, Jo, Hanson and the NYPD itself forcing our agent friends, Petersen and Singleton, to pitch in._

_Why is there no such thing as a simple gala anymore? Alas!_


	2. An Old Ally's Advisory and Invitation

Chapter 1

[Two months following Masquerade—Java Point Central, 8th and Madison, New York]

Following its four month frosty grip across the metro area, Winter had finally retreated to the north. The flowers began to sprout. The birds returned to sing their tunes and build their nests. People slowed down relatively speaking to enjoy the sights so to speak.

And in a certain café, a certain couple relaxed and watched it all….

Jo sipped contentedly on her latte and leaned back. Just an hour earlier, she and Henry had put another murderer behind bars. They received yet another commendation from Reece for their work….

…and that was before the New York State Coroner Board surprised Henry with the 'ME of the Year Award'.

_About time he got that recognition! He's only the best coroner we have. Period. _She rolled her eyes at how Reginald Escardo at the 69th thought he walked on water in that regard. _So he doesn't get it. Henry should've had it all those other years anyway! _She sipped again on her drink as her partner returned with a couple of huge cinnamon rolls encrusted with the brown spice and glazed over with warm sugary goodness. "Sure they're big enough?"

Henry shrugged. "I would never want to shortchange you, Jo. Heaven help me if I did."

She cut into the warm treat with her fork and sampled a bite. "You've got that right but this time you hit the mark. Mmm!" She smirked at him. "You definitely know the better places around town."

"Enough experience, I'd imagine," he noted effectively deflecting her praise.

"You'd better be getting more of that positive attitude too," she insisted. She'd helped him throw out his death apparatus a month earlier and helped Abe to get Henry out of his dungeon more often now. Granted she didn't mind him writing in his journal however she did exact a promise from her boyfriend not to be making anatomical notes off the clock.

"Yes. Yes." He watched as _Nocturne_ covered the sky with her dark shawl and glittering stars. "I wish you'd let me take you out."

"Henry, you don't need to impress me with big gifts or fancy dinners, okay? It's okay," she assured him. She touched her new necklace. "This in itself was very sweet. Besides I want to surprise you myself." She smirked and leaned back in the chair while chewing on another bite of cinnamon roll.

He quirked an eyebrow. "_Really? _Now whatever is brewing in that head of yours?"

"For me to know and you to find out. Let's get back to the shop and let Abe know what's going on. Okay?" She finished her drink and headed for the counter. "I'm going to get two to-go boxes. Don't want us filling up on these."

Henry admittedly was intrigued. As he boxed his own treat and followed her out the café's front door, his mind began sifting through the layers of this latest mystery….

[Abe's Antiques—twenty minutes later]

Even as the night deepened across the Big Apple, Abe studied his ledger and surveyed the shop. The week had treated him and the shop well. Sales had boomed. Several estate auctions had padded his inventory. Hell he'd even had a date with a lady he'd met online….

…and that wasn't counting how Henry and Jo continued to drift together…..

Abe scribbled a few notes in his ledger and nodded contentedly to himself. He hadn't seen Henry as much over the previous few months. Not that he minded of course. He approved of the older man's more frequent dinner dates, duck feedings and general time spent outside of work with a certain detective.

Henry hadn't that happy since Abigail's passing….

_Whatever you're doing, Jo, keep it up. Damn. Didn't think anyone could make Henry see the sun again. _He closed the book just as the doorbell chimed again. "'Evening! Be with you in just a minute."

"Of course, Mr. Morgan. I'll consider your fine inventory in the meantime," a strong female voice concurred.

He slid the ledger into the counter's center drawer and looked up at the latest visitor. "Yes? What can I…?" He considered her carefully. For some reason, her face strummed _Memoria_'s harp. He'd seen her before in a picture but couldn't quite place it.

"Something the matter, _Monsieur_?" Clarise inquired. She of course had easily tracked Henry to this store through her own connections.

"Forgive me. I'm experiencing _déjà vu_. It's silly since we just met," he apologized.

"Perhaps _Henri _has mentioned me? I am a very old friend. Dr. Clarise LaMontaigne," she introduced herself while extending her right hand.

"Pleasure. Henry doesn't have many friends who just…_drop_…by, Dr. LaMontaigne. I trust when you say _old_ you're not just talking in the mortal sense," he replied while shaking her hand. "Might I offer you some coffee or tea? I was just going to put some on."

"_Merci _but _non_. I am fine. Is _Henri _expected back soon? I have a message for him," she wondered.

"He is out with a lady at the moment. Maybe I can take a message? Is there somewhere he can reach you?" he informed her.

She glanced around at the décor guardedly. "If you do not mind, I would like to wait." Her eyes narrowed. "Besides others approach including our gifted doctor and…." She smiled. "Interesting."

At that moment, Henry held the door open for Jo allowing her into the shop. "…shall just take a single moment and we shall be on our way…."

"I don't want to miss your surprise, Henry. Besides it seems Abe has a customer," Jo supposed.

"_Non_, _Mademoiselle_. I am here to speak with _Henri_," Clarise clarified as she turned to face the partners. _"Bon soir, mes Ami."_

Henry stared for a minute. Granted he knew that since he and the former nun were both immortals that there was a chance they'd meet again. "Sister Clarise?"

"_Oui_. It is good to see you are still well and your mind is as sharp as ever, _Henri_." Clarise considered Jo. "You told me you were the only one of your kind. Who is your companion?"

"Detective Jo Martinez of the NYPD and recent addition to the immortal ranks. And you are?" Jo introduced herself guardedly.

"Remember when I told you about the duel in New Orleans and being rescued by the nun later?" Henry reminded her. "Clarise is the very same nun and woman who did so."

Jo suppressed the urge to draw her pistol or badger the visitor with a thousand questions. "That would make you as old as Henry."

"I am much older, Detective. I am 431 years old. As with _Henri_, I have lived many lives and passed through several identities. I watch my friends and enemies with care. Such is the nature of my visit this evening. Perhaps we can speak a moment?" Clarise offered.

"We're kind of late for something," Jo pointed out.

Henry shook off his partner. "I have a moment, Clarise. Perhaps we can follow up if you will be in the area?"

"That is acceptable. _Henri_, be watchful. In two days' time, the Cloisters will have their gala for the Vendee _grimoire_. Perhaps you have heard?" Clarise noted.

"You mean the book with all of the heebie-jeebie magic stuff? That's nonsense," Jo denied.

"I do not believe either in its supposed power, Clarise. However you know something?" Henry added.

"The book's legends are truth. It has belonged to several members of my family. I have seen its evil firsthand as have my fellow speakers. _Oui_. I am on the panel. So are _Alexandre Donnelly _and David Dubois. _Alexandre _sends his regards, _Henri_. He is hoping that you will attend. Perhaps you might bring _Mme. Martinez _and Abraham as well? I will leave passes at the door with our compliments," Clarise invited.

"And Mr. Dubois? I fear he might not wish to see me," Henry worried. In his mind's eye, he dimly recalled running into said-man as a teenager under very adverse conditions to say the least.

"Professor Dubois recalls your role in getting him out of there safely, _Henri. Nicolas _wishes for you both to meet once more," Clarise assured him.

That comment intrigued Jo. "Wait. You know that guy?"

"_Nicolas _is the one who brought me into the immortal ranks as you put it. _Oui. _I do not care for what he did to me. At least I am free to serve God as I can in this darkness." Clarise considered her watch. "But you both do not wish to be late for your appointment. As I said, please attend our affair. Be watchful. Others are here in the city who do not look upon you with as much kindness as I do. _Au revoir, mes Ami._" With that she departed from the store and into the Manhattan night.

"What the Hell?" Jo rushed out of the store and surveyed the street to no avail. "Where'd she go? She just _vanished_."

"Clarise does that, Jo," Henry noted sagely.

"You're not surprised? Of course you aren't! Henry!" Jo protested.

"I'm with her, Henry. Who or what was that? And she really knows the schooner guy?" Abe pressed.

Henry raised his hands. "As she said, yes, she is an immortal. And yes she knows as you called him 'the schooner guy'. I've never heard him referred to in quite that way. Rest assured that she was here on our behalf. She warned us of an impending threat. And then she invited us to a rather exclusive event at the Cloisters. I've been reading about it for months personally."

"And this Dubois? That must have been some meeting. You hesitated," Abe assessed.

Henry exhaled deeply and rubbed his forehead. "It was quite a scene. I'd rather not go into it right now. Let me get washed and then, Jo, we'll head for dinner. I'm suddenly building quite an appetite." He disappeared into the backroom.

She quirked an eyebrow at Abe. "Is it me or is he hiding something?"

Abe sighed. "From what I understand, Jo, Henry stepped into the middle of a lynch mob. With the help of a young girl, he gave Dubois, his mother and brother a chance to get the Hell out of that town." He shook his head. "Who would've thought in the late twentieth century we'd still get that kind of vigilantism?"

"And Henry just stepped away?" Jo supposed.

"No. As I said earlier, I'd rather not talk about it," Henry declared while trying not to be overly curt about the situation. "If there are two experts on that tome, it would be Dubois and Clarise…and that's not counting academic research. Now your surprise if you would?"

"Okay. I'm in the mood for that. I'm not mad at you, Henry. I just want to know what's going on," she assured him.

"That goes for me too," Abe affirmed.

Jo ushered Henry out the door while trying to gentle the moment back into the former mood with a warm smile for his benefit. She knew it wasn't his fault that the old secrets and life kept coming back to bite them….

Up to that point, it had been indirectly. But it seemed that was about to change….

As they drove away, Abe locked his door and put up the closed sign. As he did so he could've sworn a shadow shifted in the alley across the street. When he looked again, it was gone. _Weird. Maybe that lady was right. We'd best be careful. What the Hell have you uncorked, Henry?_


	3. Musings in the Morgue

Chapter 2 [Next Day]

[Morgue]

Henry sighed deeply as he considered his next 'patient'. The Haitian man lying on his table supposedly died from a stroke. However, due to a nurse's suspicions, the deceased needed an autopsy.

Despite his own and the nurse's superiors saying otherwise, Henry pressed on. Granted it wasn't as easy as it usually was for him. Clarise's warning weighed heavily in his mind. In addition Jo's mood had been just a touch frosty at dinner. _What is the problem? Collect yourself! _He set down his scalpel and took a calming breath.

Lucas considered him curiously. He'd never seen the other pathologist so distracted before. "Hey, Doc. It's cool. Want me to take a crack at it?"

Henry straightened and almost glared at the younger man. "Thank you but I'm fine. We all have bad days. I'm finally having mine." He peeled off his gloves and tossed them in the haz-mat bag. Then he washed his hands and fixed a cup of coffee. "Perhaps you can draw some blood? We will need to get the toxicological analysis started."

Lucas grinned at the prospect of being given a part to play. He prepared the syringe and drew two vials of blood as expertly as possible. Then he disposed of the needle and held up the vials. "Be right back!" He headed toward the pathology lab.

"Yes. Please be quick," Henry muttered to himself. He took another moody sip and headed back to his office. He slumped into his chair and rubbed his forehead. _The past never forgets, does it? _

And his mind flashed back…..

[Mason Plantation, somewhere in the Florida Panhandle—1856]

Early spring brought its humidity and glimmers of heat to the southern United States coast. People batted fans, kept inside where possible and, if they could afford it, kept large chunks of ice handy for cooling themselves. Despite the date, Winter was already gone and Summer wouldn't be long in coming….

Henry walked about the grounds briskly while considering his situation. After his death and resurrection following the duel, he'd spent the next two months riding along with his savior, the mysterious Sister Clarise, in her coach. Admittedly he still brooded about losing his practice and possessions in New Orleans. He worried about Ms. Richeleu's well-being at the hands of Michel Dijon.

On top of that, he'd need to start over….again….

Since discovering his immortality some forty years earlier, he'd passed between lives several times. He'd left a great deal behind in terms of personal connections and property at those instances. He still couldn't get used to that. His heart felt empty at the thought of living amidst mortals and yet being apart from them. _How does the good sister do it? She seems to understand our predicament far better than I! Will I *ever* understand? That seems to be the question._ He recognized a tall African-American man approaching him in a black coat and trousers. "Winston, what may I do for you?"

"Afternoon, Dr. Morgan. Mr. Mason is setting up for tea. Perhaps you'd care to join him and the Missus?" the slave offered enthusiastically.

_At least the hospitality here is first rate. I have to hand Clarise that! _"I'd be delighted. You have my thanks, Winston. Might I follow you?" Henry accepted with a smile.

"Of course, Sir. Right this way," Winston concurred before leading Henry back toward the manor house.

Henry could tell the structure's sheer age with just a glance. Despite the Mason family's splendid efforts to keep their home in top condition, the ivy growing on the house's pillars hinted at the house's origins stretching back a century earlier. Little chips at the edges of the paint added to that notion as well. _The family is established here and has been for a long time. _

"Dr. Morgan?" Winston inquired breaking into his reverie.

"Hmmm? Yes, Winston?" Henry queried.

"Are you all right, Sir?" the guide asked.

"Perfectly. I was just noting the house's architecture. Quite impressive," Henry elaborated.

"It is, Dr. Morgan." Winston guided him into a well-lit atrium. There a tea service with a china pot and three cups sat on a white tablecloth over a mahogany table. He bowed to the master and lady of the house. "Master, I have brought Dr. Morgan."

"So you have, Winston. Thank you. Please pour the tea. Then you may attend to dinner," a tall and astute red-haired man noted primly. His eyes sparkled warmly at his slave.

"Of course, Sir." Winston carefully raised the pot and poured out the required cups. Then he set it back down in its place. "Enjoy." He bowed again before leaving.

"Efficient fellow, that one," a blonde woman complimented before taking a bite of an oatmeal cookie. "Are you enjoying yourself, Doctor?"

Henry nodded. "Absolutely, Mrs. Mason. Your home is quite stunning if you don't mind me saying. I like to walk around the grounds and take it all in. Your hospitality is impressive. Thank you." He bit into an oatmeal cookie and nodded in appreciation.

"You are very welcome, Henry," Mr. Mason assured the guest. "You are a model guest as Sister Clarise said you'd be. It is our pleasure to open our doors to you. You do have everything you require?"

"Oh yes. This time is giving me an opportunity to consider where I shall settle," Henry noted.

"You could stay here. They need good doctors in town," she invited while eliciting a nod from her husband. "In fact there's a party we're attending night after tomorrow. You should accompany us. Then you can meet the important people and decide for yourself."

While he really didn't want to attend such a ball, he wouldn't offend his hosts by declining. Henry nodded and accepted, "It sounds like exactly what the doctor ordered."

"Exactly," Mason concurred while sipping on his tea.

Henry took a measure draught from his tea cup. He knew such an opportunity should not be wasted. Yet for some reason, he felt foreboding as well…..

[Modern Day—Morgue]

A rapping at the door jarred him back to reality. He looked up to see Jo watching him. "Pardon me." He composed himself and stood to acknowledge her. "Sorry I was thinking."

"Yeah I can see that. Judging from the million mile stare, I'm guessing you're remembering something from before?" she deduced.

He nodded with a troubled look while sipping on his tea. "Just one of the places Sister Clarise arranged for us to stay in. It was a palatial manor house down south—somewhere in Georgia or Florida as I recall." He shrugged. "Lovely place all things considered."

"Uh _huh_." She exhaled deeply. "There wasn't _anything _going on, was there?"

"Between the good sister and myself? Not hardly. As I told you before, we had a platonic arrangement. She was heading for the Carolinas. I rode with her for much of that time. Besides we are quite different…her and us," he pointed out.

"Different?" she queried.

He frowned not wanting to go into detail yet on that note. "There are different types of immortals, Jo. She is one type. Adam, you and I are another. She is our ally."

While not satisfied with the answer, she filed it away for future reference. "And this party tomorrow? It doesn't bother you?"

"Should it? It is just another academic gathering. I've seen hundreds like it," he downplayed. "We'll go, listen to the panel, give our regards to the panelists and then depart. Clarise and Dubois are supposedly the experts on that book and its history."

"If we can keep him from freaking out." She held up a folder and slapped it on his desk. "That's what I dug up on your friend's co-panelist. He's a borderline lunatic."

"_Afflicted _you mean," he countered. "Other than a few asinine comments, I do not foresee any reason to worry. Everything seems as it should. We shall even have guards on alert for any threats. Besides we shall be there. If anything occurs, we can call the good Lieutenant, can we not?"

"You got me there. Sorry, Henry. I just don't want an incident. I just want you to enjoy yourself there tomorrow." She embraced him.

"I know. I appreciate that, Jo. Believe me, I do." He kissed her forehead. "Have faith."

She relaxed a bit at those words yet she still felt uneasy. Something was going to happen. She had one of those feelings.

Feelings that usually came before the storm hit….

"Meantime how about I get you a coffee? Then you can get back to work on our friend out there," she invited.

"Yes. I believe you are striking an excellent bargain, Detective," he quipped while walking more purposefully toward the corpse and sliding it into the freezer.

"Just part of my job, _Doctor Morgan_," she cracked with an air of 'gotcha' wit. "Come on." She guided him from the area and toward the coffee stand on the sidewalk

Java and caffeine seemed to be in order…if everything else would remain as such…..


	4. Museum Fracas

Chapter 3 [Cloisters' Museum, Fort Tryon Park—Following Evening]

Another night and day passed in the Big Apple. Most people carried on with their daily affairs as they always did. Even the Precinct seemed busier than normal as perps and victims rolled through at a greater pace than normal.

By the time the Moon rose in her full nocturnal glory, all concerned seemed more than ready to wind down.

Yet for some, events were just starting…..

Abe surveyed the surroundings as he, Henry and Jo made their way through the dimly lit woods along with some of the others going to attend the gala at hand. He'd walked that asphalted path many times over the years of course whether by himself or being towed by Henry toward the transplanted monastery just beyond the rise along the Hudson palisades. "I ain't crazy about being here at night."

"It's not like we're alone, Abe. It's okay," Jo assured him. She pulled out her phone. "Hanson and Reece are a speed dial away."

"Let's hope it shall not be needed. Tonight is a night for triumphs," Henry disagreed. "Let us not wish for trouble. Shall we?"

"Fine. Still I'm ready," Jo conceded while putting her phone in her purse. She still had that bad feeling in her gut. Several times she swore that the shadows were moving _unnaturally _in the wooded patches of the trail….

…as if they were all being stalked….

"Be calm," Henry urged. He didn't want a scene in front of two old friends. He quickly looked about to make sure the coast was clear and ascertain his views to them. "Come along." He led them into the stone structure and up to the desk. "Good evening," he greeted the lady in green behind the desk. "I am Henry Morgan. Alexander Donnelly and Clarise LaFontaine left word about my companions and me, I trust?"

The raven haired associate checked a computer screen and typed on a few keys. Then she nodded. "Yes indeed, Dr. Morgan! I presume they are Ms. Martinez and Mr. Morgan?" Getting a nod from them both, she continued, "Very well. I'll need to see ID from you three."

"Is something the matter, Miss Richards?"

The attendant and the trio turned to see a dark haired man with glasses and a blue suit standing in back of them. He carried a worn briefcase by the strap in his left hand. A beige overcoat lay across his right arm. His brown eyes observed them.

Henry stopped in view of the newcomer. He nodded. "It's been a long time, Mr. Dubois."

_Dubois? This is the guy? Look at how Henry's looking at him…as if time's just stopped. Note to self, watch this guy. _Jo stood firm but offered no outward reaction.

"Indeed it has. Miss Richards, this is Dr. Morgan. I'll vouch for them," Dubois instructed.

"Of course, Professor. Are you doing okay?" Richards queried.

"I'm fine, Miss Richards. I appreciate the concern though," Dubois insisted. "Follow me. We saved you all great seats." He led the trio up the winding granite staircase to the desk's left and out into the main atrium. "You don't have to fear me, Ma 'am. I am your friend. Grandpa Alex and Clarise vouch for you all. And I owe Dr. Morgan for that day in Rowenshire after all."

"Clarise mentioned that. I'll bet that is some story," Jo presumed.

"She did, did she?" Dubois quirked an eyebrow at Henry. "She usually guards that like Fort Knox." He considered her again. "Then again we all have our secrets, Ms….?"

"Martinez. Jo Martinez, Dr. Dubois. Sorry all of this stuff is still difficult to digest," Jo apologized.

"I can imagine. Still you need to keep a tighter mask on your expressions and feelings. I _can _feel your mistrust. Goes with my territory. Just relax. My wife's on edge enough with her grandfather and me speaking about this stuff," Dubois advised. "It's too bad my grandfather couldn't be here for it." He bowed his head and spasmed.

Henry nodded while recalling an earlier conversation with Donnelly in Oxford some thirty years earlier. "Lorenzo is watching, David. Remain calm. You and the others are about to break untold academic ground tonight."

"There are those who do not want that book exposed, Dr. Morgan. You know that as well as I do. Consequently I'm ready for anything. Why do you think I agreed to having a few police officers around?" He turned the corner and led them to where the other guests were milling about and taking their seats. "We can talk afterwards, Folks. Great to see you again, Dr. Morgan." Dubois shook Henry's hand firmly before heading toward the table and lectern in the front.

As they did so, Abe saw a unique scar on the back of the speaker's hand…that of a sideways figure-8. He suppressed his further reaction. "Henry, his hand…."

"Yes. I saw. We can ask later in private." Henry looked about at the crowd not wanting to garner attention. "It's also why he's the way he is." They glanced toward the corner of the room. There, under glass, sat a large leather bound tome with gilt trim. Even from the edges, one could see the parchment pages' age.

"That's it?" she deduced. Then she saw the two men standing guard beside it. "Aren't they the FBI agents from the bombing case?"

Henry nodded. "Agents Singleton and Petersen. They are most certainly out of place in here." He noted how Dubois kept stealing anxious glances as well. He rubbed the back of his right hand where the scar was as if to assuage some kind of pain.

"He doesn't look happy to be around it," she noted.

"Nor should he be. But we can discuss that later as David has already told you," Clarise insisted. "_Bon soir, mes Ami. _Thank you for coming. We're about to begin as soon as we…." She stiffened and glared about the room. _"NON!"_

"Clarise, what is going on?" Henry demanded.

"_The others_. They are here and…." Clarise started. She saw Dubois standing up. "David, do not go!"

"I knew this was a _bad idea_! Garth, Steve, stay put!" Dubois bellowed. He grabbed for something in his pocket as he rushed toward the dark room.

Within seconds, the sounds of a scuffle could be heard.

Dubois flew out of the room hitting the side of the table and slumping to the floor stunned.

Then a deep scream penetrated the entire room from the side room.

The crowd as one started pressing for the exits.

And that was before the lights went out in the entire museum.

"_Idiot! _I told him not to!" Clarise spat angrily before somehow finding her way through the Stygian darkness toward the front. Her immortal eyes cut through the darkness toward her quarry. However as she approached the fallen professor, she saw the two agents slumped unconscious on the granite floor as well.

Worst of all, the tome wasn't in its place….

"_Sacre Bleu! Le liber!" _Clarise exclaimed. She glanced toward the side atrium again. "_Alexandre! Henri, _come here! _Sil-voux-plais!_"

"That's our cue," Jo assumed. "Come on, Henry! Abe, stay here and be careful!"

Henry, however, was already ahead of her. Running at full speed across the room, he'd passed his immortal savior and stood at the entrance of the room. He stared incredulously.

Inside an auburn haired woman kneeled over Donnelly's fallen and bloodied form. She held a bloodied knife in her right hand and sobbed. "N…no! Grandpa Alex, you can't be dead! PLEASE!"

Jo pushed her way into the room. She drew her pistol. "Okay, Lady. Drop the knife and raise those hands! You've done enough!"

The woman shook her head. When she realized that the knife was in her hand, she dropped it to the floor with a loud chink sound. "I…I didn't do…it."

"That's what they all say. You're going downtown. We'll talk at the precinct," Jo disagreed while whipping her cuffs out. She bound the other woman's hands behind her back and pulled her to her feet. "Let's go."

"Detective, it is not her," Clarise disagreed. _"Arrete!"_

"She's the only one who was in that room with him and holding the murder weapon too. That makes it an open and shut one to me," Jo countered. "I respect that you've been around and know us. I do have my job to do on the other hand. So if you'll excuse me?" She pushed the woman out of the room and toward the stairs below.

Henry shook his head in lament at how the situation had degenerated so quickly. Still they needed to let someone know what was going on. He got on the line to call Lieutenant Reece while gathering Abe and following Jo's path out.

Somehow he knew the garbage was hitting the fan. So much for a pleasant night out…..


	5. Dark Signs and Clues

Chapter 4 [Forty-Five Minutes Later]

Reece stalked about the disheveled room in frustration and disgust. She'd spent much of the ride up there from the Precinct getting it from the mayor. She couldn't believe that someone had slipped past a line of NYPD officers and two trained FBI agents to get the book and murder Donnelly.

The witnesses' statements concerning Dubois' confronting the guilty parties made her even angrier. She wasn't about to have any vigilantes on her watch….

She observed Henry inspecting the room and the granite nearest to where Donnelly's body had rested. She marveled at how he continued his own unique brand of forensic analysis despite the fact that victim was his old friend. _I wish I knew how he did it. _"Doctor?"

Henry twitched ever so slightly at the sound of her voice. He glanced up at her while trying to maintain the confident mask and the British stiff upper lip. "Good Evening, Lieutenant. Quite the pity. Is it not?"

"I understand that Professor Donnelly was your friend. If you'd like, I could have someone else handle this case," she offered.

"Thank you but I can handle this. I owe it to Alexander to make sure it is handled with supreme efficiency and aplomb. The family would want it that way. Speaking of which, where is his granddaughter? I'd like to speak with her," he declined.

"You can at the station. Jo arrested her for this murder," she indicated.

He shook his head. "Angela? Kill Alex? No, Lieutenant, it is not possible. That woman adored him."

"Then who? Dubois himself was in here. According to witnesses, he charged in here. They heard fighting. Then he was thrown back into the main room and against the table. There are no other ways in or out, Henry."

His eyes glanced skyward toward the open skylight. "Perhaps they climbed up through there, Lieutenant."

"Dr. Morgan, we have a suspect! Don't make this…." Reece warned him.

He stood abruptly. His eyes flared uncharacteristically at her. "With all due respect, Lieutenant, you are making this too convenient a case. Have somebody go up onto the roof and dust the skylight for prints."

"You make it sound like they can fly! Doctor, I'm warning you. I can appreciate your hunches and theories. However we have a suspect," she reiterated.

"One that if wrongfully accused will set off a bloody incident, I fear, if not carefully handled," he pointed out.

As he said that, an icy chill enveloped the room. A white residue formed on the stones closest to them.

"What the Hell?" She shivered and watched her breath hang frostily in the air. "Now the air conditioning's breaking down in here?"

Henry shook his head. For the temperature to drop forty degrees in seconds was impossible under most mundane circumstances. In general, he refused to pander to superstitious rumors and myths….

…except in the one case where he'd run into such a thing…

…in that village where he'd helped Dubois as a teenager….

His eyes quickly scouted the entire area. Due to the flickering candles, the shadows were fleeting…not deep enough for what he searched for…. He stood and gazed back out into the main chamber surveying every inch and stone.

"Doctor?" she queried not understanding.

He put his hand up and kept scanning the shadows. Then he stopped abruptly as his eyes spied the shadows moving by a particular tapestry in the corner.

For a fleeting second, two crimson spots hovered there before melting away into the shadows.

Almost instantly, the chill dissipated allowing the room to warm back toward its normal temperature.

"Do you see something?" Reece pressed. Then she queerly looked about the room. "This is too bizarre!"

He let out a sharp breath. "No," he lied pointedly. "I thought I did but it was a trick of the lights. Nothing more, I fear." He frowned. "Have forensics treat this with care and…." He noticed something else in the corner. "Wait. What is that?" He rushed back into the side room again and over to the far left part of it.

There, hanging off of a Heidelberg candelabra's worn edge, a torn shard of lavender silk flittered in the dissipating chill.

He carefully removed it and placed it into a plastic evidence baggie before placing it in his pocket. As he did so, his mind flashed back…..

[Boudoin Manor, Florida Panhandle, two nights after previous flashback]

Henry leaned back into the cushions lining the inner compartment of the Masons' carriage. His mind still fluttered with excuses and reasons why he shouldn't be going to the party. Yet he was there. He determined to at least give the whole matter a chance.

As the driver turned off of the main road and down a dirt driveway lined with cypress trees, Mrs. Mason smiled at him. "You'll just _love _these people, Doctor. They're all ecstatic to meet you," she assured him with her light southern twang.

"As I said, we can always use an excellent doctor and a fine gentleman, my Dear. Henry seems to fit both requirements," her husband noted while straightening his coat.

"I'm sure it'll be quite a night indeed," Henry presumed while trying to sound polite. As the carriage stopped, he smiled. "Ladies first."

"Well played, _Sirrah_. Thank you indeed," Mason noted as the door opened from the outside. There he saw two footmen in dark suits and powdered wigs setting up a stepping stool for their use. He allowed her to exit first. Then he motioned to Henry. "You next, Doctor."

"Of course," Henry concurred while stepping down next to his hostess and then watching the other man exit the carriage as well. He could hear the Brahms concerto floating from the plantation house's windows beckoning them inside. "It seems that the party has started without us."

"You are still quite early, _Sirrah_," one of the footmen assured him. "Master Mason, you made good time tonight."

"I appreciate that, Frederick. Come along, Dear. Henry, please follow us," Mason expressed before leading his companions toward the main house. They creaked up the aged stairs and toward the large double doors.

Before they could knock, an African American man in a blue suit opened the portal and bowed. "Good evening, Mr. Mason. Are you and the Missus all right?"

"We are, Simon. Thank you kindly," she replied with a warm smile. "And you?"

"I'm fine, Ma 'am. Thank you," the slave indicated pleasantly while ushering them into the house. "Might I take your coats?"

"You may," Mason concurred as he handed Simon his coat and his wife's. "Henry, your coat."

Henry nodded and removed his coat. Then he handed Simon his jacket. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Sir. Master Boudoin will be back in a minute. Meantime he instructed me to tell you and the _Missus _to join the others in the parlor. Doctor Morgan, can you follow me?" Simon accepted the jacket and hung them in the closet next to the other guests' wraps.

Henry shot his host a curious expression.

"Simon, we would like Dr. Morgan to meet the other guests," Mason pointed out.

"Of course. Master Boudoin wanted to greet Dr. Morgan in private. Can you follow me, Doctor?" Simon affirmed with as much politeness as he could manage.

"Go with him, Henry. I'm sure he has a reason," Mason agreed.

"I'm sure he does. Very well, Simon. Lead on," Henry concurred. He followed the guide up a winding palatial staircase and along the length of an exposed carpeted walkway with several doors to their right.

About four doors down, Simon stopped and wheeled about. He rapped sharply on the door. "_Monsieur Boudoin? C' est Simon et Henri Morgan."_

"_Entre," _a deep voice beckoned clearly despite the door's closed thickness.

Simon opened the door and stepped back anxiously. "I hope you have a pleasant time tonight, Dr. Morgan." With another bow, he returned to the party proper.

Henry hovered in the doorway of the dimly lit study. A few candles flickered about the chamber casting a dim glow. He could make out several well-stocked bookcases along three of the walls. A fire blazed away in the fireplace. Above it, a portrait of what seemed to be a woman gazed out toward him….

…while he couldn't quite see her features, the eyes seemed powerful enough….

Behind the desk, a rather large man puffed away on a cigar while sitting in the chair. His back was turned to Henry. "_Bon soir, Henri. _Thank you for coming."

The host's voice froze Henry for a brief second. He remembered it quite well from his previous stop….from the Dijon manor…. _"Monsieur Dijon?"_

"_Oui." _The figure that everyone else at the manor knew as "Master Boudoin" rose to his feet and strode into the flickering light. His imposing height and long raven hair tied back to its familiar ponytail not to mention the familiar white suit with lavender lining. His intense emerald eyes caught the flickering light in them. "_Bienvenue chez moi, docteur_."

Henry froze. He felt his breath freeze in his throat.

This was going to be some party…

[Modern Day]

Henry collected himself. He eyed the railing under the candelabra to see it bent in. "Quite a heave, I dare say."

"What is, Doctor? Certainly you're not going to suggest Dubois was flung from where you are toward the table out there?" she queried in disbelief.

"There are no signs of struggle by the door. Only signs are over here. This is where the battle took place," he assessed. "Note the bent rail here at the wall. The candelabra is broken. We have a clue here as well. Perhaps we can test this fabric for DNA."

"Now you are talking sense, Dr. Morgan. Take the samples back to your lab. I will have Professor Donnelly's body brought to you for further analysis. A super strong man who can throw another 200 lb. man better than seventy feet like a puppy? Then can exit out the skylight before we can cross the room? Doctor, you'll have to do better than that," she concluded before heading back into the main room.

_Pity you wouldn't believe. When I first saw it, neither did I! _Henry shook his head and noted the scoring scratch in the granite where Donnelly had been. "Allo! What is this?" He took a set of tweezers from his pocket and another evidence baggie. He picked what seemed to be a metal jagged fragment. He set it into the baggie and pocketed it as well. "We'll see what you can do." He departed the room and headed across the main speaking area.

Dubois and the two agents had departed already. So had Clarise for that matter.

_This is going to be a long night! _Henry frowned as he mulled his options back downtown. Perhaps he could cross the wooded park to the ancient stop for the Number 1 train but it would be risky….

…especially if the owner of the torn cloak was who he thought he was….

"Hey, Doc! I'm just wrapping things up. Need a lift back?" Hanson offered.

"I'd be most appreciative, Detective. It is a most maudlin evening. The offer does pick it up a bit," Henry accepted.

"Yeah. Reece said you knew the deceased. Sorry about all of this. Man, who would've thought the old man's granddaughter would've done it?" Hanson presumed.

"Let's do the autopsy first. Then we'll see what offers itself. Did you see where Dubois and the agents went?" Henry pointed out.

"Petersen and Singleton took our medievalist nut ball to get checked out. I'm sure we'll be seeing him at the station since we have his wife as our prime guest. If he shows, expect Reece to chew him out," Hanson explained. "Come on, Henry. I've had enough of this place for one night."

"Indeed," Henry agreed. As they left, his eyes scanned the tapestry in question. In its center, he spied an _auto-da-fe_ being conducted on an almost nondescript man. The next scene revealed a fiery demon emerging from the flames in a scene of ghastly horror….

…a demonic shadow shade with crimson eyes….

_Enough of this indeed! _He forced himself to hustle across the stones toward Hanson. "Shall we?"

"Hey you're the one who decided to play tourist for a second there, Doc. Don't see what you get out of this dusty old stuff anyhow," the detective noted while leading them down the stairs.

_You'd be surprised, Detective. Surprised indeed! _Henry of course knew the tapestry well and the tie it had to the room on that evening.

Question was how to make it stick before all of the elements blew into an all-out war? A good question indeed…..


	6. Other Interests Make Themselves Known

Chapter 5 [Precinct—An hour later]

Jo combed the rough notes she'd taken at the scene before hauling her suspect down there. The account resembled a piece of Swiss cheese more than a solid replay of what had happened. On the surface, it seemed like a solid enough case….Man killed. Woman found over him with the bloody knife. Neat and dry….

…except that it wasn't….

_Why would that Clarise lady go off like that? _She bit her lip and considered that point. While Jo didn't know the other immortal at all, Henry did and trusted her seemingly implicitly….

_Henry…._

Jo sighed; her mind wandering again off of the case at hand toward the morgue downstairs. She knew he struggled with Donnelly's death even if he wouldn't admit it. _I wish I could go and be with him. _

"Anything new, Jo?" Reece supposed while coming up to her side.

"Sorry, Lieutenant. I'm hitting dead ends. I'm hoping our interview with Angela Dubois will give us more," Jo admitted.

"At least you're trying to go with facts rather than supposition." Reece scratched the back of her head. "I'm surprised at Dr. Morgan. He's obsessed with fantastic hunches and wild theories that can't make sense."

"Henry always has wild theories. They usually pan out," Jo reminded her superior.

"True. However what he supposed in that room _can't _be true. Henry theorized that the true assailant dropped down through the skylight about forty feet to the stone floor, killed Donnelly, tossed David Dubois out of the room like a toy and then flew out of the area before we could get there. Ridiculous!" Reece disagreed. "You'd best come up with something from the _real world_, Jo."

"Doing my best." Jo stood up and took a file in her hand. "Are you ready?"

"Indeed I am. Let's go," Reece concurred.

_And here we go! _Jo frowned while considering how to deal with this particular interview….

[Morgue]

Even as Jo and Reece prepared to interview Angela Dubois, Henry considered her grandfather's corpse lying on the table in front of himself. His practiced eye skimmed over his friend's withered body discerning signs relating to the crime at hand. He discerned slight bruising on the deceased's hands and forearms more than likely coming from the struggle with the assailant. He could see Donnelly's head laying dramatically off to the right due to the latter's broken neck.

Surprisingly though he found no other marks on the victim although he suspected there would be some….

"Curious indeed." Henry sighed and scribbled out some more notes on his clipboard. He prepared himself mentally for the task of autopsying his friend…not something he looked forward to obviously.

"Hey, Doc!" Lucas rushed into the area with a manila envelope in his hand. "Just got the results back from that piece of fabric from the scene! Also…well…."

Henry accepted the envelope but quirked his eyebrow at Lucas curiously. "What have you done now, Lucas? Please tell me the results weren't inconclusive."

"Excuse me? It was conclusive…kind of weird but…" Lucas glanced toward the door. "Guess who showed up when this was all going down."

"Good evening, Dr. Morgan." Agent Petersen assessed the two coroners with a fairly relaxed yet professional countenance. He glanced back at Singleton who stood by the door. "Interesting findings there, I have to say."

"They pulled rank, Doc. Sorry," Lucas apologized sheepishly.

"I'm sure." Henry opened the envelope and reviewed the printed findings. He suppressed the shock at the verdict. "Amazing."

"Unless we have an assailant who prances around Manhattan with ancient tastes in wardrobe, I say we narrowed down our list of suspects dramatically," Singleton theorized while sipping on something in a covered Styrofoam cup.

"Yeah we get one of those Renaissance fair guys sneaking into the Cloisters. Pretty awesome…." Lucas started before seeing the trio of disapproving glares shutting him up. "Or…not."

"Lucas, perhaps you might take the rest of the evening off? You do go home in a half hour anyhow. Don't worry. I have it," Henry hinted not so subtly.

"Yeah well who has the psycho prof? Word has it that he was with you two after leaving the Cloisters," Lucas retorted indignantly.

Petersen locked eyes with the assistant ME. "_Dave _is with his wife right now. As for being a psycho, Kid, you should try life on his side of the fence sometime."

"Steve," Singleton cut in and shook his head at his partner. "Let's keep this professional." He flicked the cup into the garbage bucket to his right and shook his head. "Still his point stands. Petersen and have I seen cases like this before…_well before _we joined the Bureau. This mess is the tip of a whole iceberg you really don't want to crash into, Lucas. It is _Lucas_, right? Take Dr. Morgan's suggestion and find some other place to be."

"This is a NYPD matter not an FBI matter though. Reece won't…." Lucas disagreed.

Petersen shrugged. "Lieutenant Reece would be well over her head in this case. As such, she will be hearing from Washington shortly. Dr. Morgan, you and Detective Martinez will be working with us directly. As for you, _Lucas_, find yourself _another case _to deal with. This one is no longer your concern."

"I am sorry, Lucas. I do appreciate your efforts. Still the agents are correct," Henry conceded. "See you in a few days."

"Yeah I'm sorry too. Some of us never get to play for the big leagues," Lucas grumbled before grabbing his coat and stalking out of the room.

"He is heading toward the good Lieutenant's office as we speak, Gentlemen," Henry assumed. "I'm surprised you two want me in on this case?"

"Given what you said to Reece back at the Cloisters, we insisted, Doctor," Singleton clarified. He glanced down at Donnelly. "Poor Angie's a wreck right now. A first class frame job if there was one."

"A fifteenth century scrap from a longer robe. I've seen such fashions in a museum but not in an age," Henry assessed half-truthfully. Of course he'd seen such things with Abigail and Abe in various museums and galleries across the USA and Europe. However the _fleur des lys _embroidered into it identified the scrap's owner implicitly.

And with that, his mind flashed back again….

[Boudoin Mansion—1856]

Henry stared in shock and surprise at the manor's master. He realized it was quite rude but he couldn't help himself. "_Monsieur Dijon_, what is this?"

"Please, _Henri_, it is _Monsieur Boudoin _here. Names are play things really. Those of us who are different pick them up and discard them like playthings as we move from life to life. Might I offer you a brandy or cognac perhaps to relax you? I assure you no harm will come to you on this evening." Dijon proposed. He opened a cabinet in back of his desk slowly.

Henry gulped fully expecting to see a pair of dueling pistols appear.

Instead the host held a pair of frosted glasses aloft. "Calm yourself. I know you did everything you could to prevent the spectacle back in New Orleans. _Michel _was the idiot not you. Alas I had to eliminate him after your disappearance. Quite the curious escape you engineered disappearing like that from the scene. I had thought such a trick mere foolishness until you accomplished it." He set ice in one. "Now what is your drinking pleasure?"

"Perhaps some white wine if you have any? I do recall the vintage you had before," Henry suggested.

"An excellent choice. Of course I have some and would be honored to share," Dijon walked over to a bookshelf to his left and pulled at a red tome making the shelf pop open and revealing a crevice there. "_Une moment." _He disappeared for ten seconds before returning with the bottle in question. "A good vintage from my family's ancestral lands."

"I don't recall a vineyard from the manor…" Henry doubted.

Dijon poured Henry his glass. Then he produced another bottle of rouge colored wine and poured his own drink. "Not _that place_, _Henri_. I was speaking of _Burgundy_ of course. A peasant family runs it now but for centuries, the Dukes of Burgundy held that chateau and the surrounding lands in our iron fist."

"_Merci beaucoup_," Henry accepted graciously. "Did you say Duke of Burgundy? The last duke died in 1477."

"Yes my brother, Charles. The pikemen and their accursed tactics did that." Dijon spat into the fireplace sending a red colored liquid into the fireplace. "Much as the mob who sent _her _to the flames a century later." He motioned to the portrait. "My wife, _Marguerite_, aspired to more than she should have. She wanted power without the knowledge of its use. Pity her plans engineered her own demise." He glanced curiously at Henry who was still anxious. "You notice things. _Oui_. I know of your discerning skills."

"You spat _blood_," Henry gasped. "You need a doctor!"

"I have not needed a physician in four hundred years, _Henri_. _Salud!_" Dijon raised his glass in toast and drank it down. "Immortals such as ourselves do not have such cares." Seeing the denial about to form on his guest's face, he snorted incredulously. "I can _feel _your difference, Doctor. You and I are not like these mortals. Neither is Clarise. I do not wish you an enemy. We should be allies."

Henry gulped down a couple of dry draughts from his glass before setting it on a coaster nearby. He sized up the hulking figure by the fireplace. "And I suppose laws have no hold on you either?"

Dijon laughed deeply and darkly. "We are _immortal_! Laws come and go along with the societies they serve. The constables and their mortal minions play at keeping order. _We_…we are the order. Play along to a point before springing your move on them. The so-called authorities are to be put up with as long as they suit our ends, _mes Ami_. No more, no less…." He finished his drink. "Now we do have a party to join. _Do we not_?"

Henry finished his drink and set the glass down guardedly. "After you then?"

"_Merci. _A good start indeed," Dijon praised as they left the study behind.

[Modern Day]

Henry jerked himself back to his present surroundings. He held up the fabric in question. "Even the actors that Lucas was referring to would not be able to recreate this piece…not with such detail and at great expense."

"Our thinking exactly, Dr. Morgan," Singleton concurred. "And that's another reason Reece and the NYPD can't be involved. They'd never get it and…."

Suddenly alarms went off throughout the building.

"Now what could be the issue? This is a police precinct. We have everything secure and…." Henry presumed.

Then a loud piercing shriek threatened to shatter their eardrums. The room dropped to near freezing much as the crime scene had done.

_What'dya think, DUM'ASS? _a grating voice rasped in challenge. The shadows moved and the crimson eyes glowed at him and the agents. _Mustard Boy's tryin' 'is SHIT! GIT MOVIN'! _With that the form disappeared.

"Angie! Dammit! He's making his move! Dr. Morgan, lock yourself in here! Garth, let's move!" Petersen directed frantically before rushing down the hall toward the stairs and the cellblock beyond.

"Don't open it until we tell you!" Garth added before sprinting after his partner like Hell itself was on his heels.

Henry ground his teeth and went for the door. "Mustard Boy? What a crass analogy. Now I'm hearing things and seeing ghosts. Unreal. This has been quite the evening indeed."

Before he could take a step, he felt a sudden breeze and something very strong gripping his shoulder. He turned to find Dijon considering him in turn. "Dijon?"

"_Oui, Henri. Bon soir." _The Burgundian immortal greeted. "It is quite the night, no?" He shut the door behind himself. "Let us get comfortable. We do have a great deal to discuss. _Non?_"

Henry stared at his former host/sometimes-nemesis in disconcertion. He backed up to allow his mind precious seconds to assess the situation.

Seemed that the party hadn't stopped just yet…..


	7. Cellblock Confrontation

Chapter 6 [Cell Block—Fifteen minutes earlier]

[A/N: Reader's advisory—Fight straight ahead. Also Jo's about to have one of *those side trips*. You've been advised….]

In between the morgue and the bullpen proper, a floor containing cell sat dimly lit. The iron bars recalled a harsher/crueler age of criminal containment; one that admittedly Reece and her counterparts still attempted to sweep away but found useful in some regards nonetheless. The heating pipes hummed with hot air. Silence hung lowly over the largely empty expanse…strangely empty especially given the amount of traffic that largely went through there…but perhaps good for the lucky ones who weren't there that night….

…and the scenario which was about to unfold….

Angela Dubois moped on a cot in the far corner of a holding cell. She trembled both from fear and shock over the events in the Cloisters earlier. Her mind frantically ran through a list of questions….

_Why did they have to bring that dratted book to light?_

_Why did Grandpa Alex have to involve Dave in that process knowing full well what had happened in the past?_

_Why did Grandpa Alex have to die? Why do they think I did it? I was trying to help him! I am a doctor after all….._

She slowly wiped the tears away from her eyes. When she saw the assailants charge into the room, she'd yelled hoping her husband would hear. To see one of them pick David up and throw him bodily from the room made her fear for her own life….

…a life that was preserved because her loving grandfather sacrificed himself for her….

"Why?" she moped sadly.

"So many questions," a female voice mocked from the inky darkness. "And to think Dubois picked a milksop like you for his mate."

Angela snapped to attention. Somehow she collected herself and jumped to her feet. She peered out through the bars to try and see what was out there. "Who's there? Show yourself!"

On cue, two figures stepped into the dim moonlit expanse. The first, a six and a half foot tall Mongoloid dressed in a black suit glared at her. The second, a slender firehaired woman, smirked almost predator-like at the prisoner. Her emerald eyes pierced the latter's.

Angela knew the duo weren't there just to visit. On the contrary, she, her husband and their friends had dealt with such intruders in their lives over the previous twenty-five years. Many of said encounters usually involved threats, challenges, the fight involving David and his alter ego against them before said intruders ended up badly wounded or dead. "Go away! We didn't do anything to you! You can't be here! Would you expose yourselves?"

Firehair laughed sarcastically. "We arrive and melt away in the shadows. No one will know save to find your corpse. Han?"

He nodded silently. Gripping the cell door in question, he tore it from its moorings with a single tug and flipped it aside like so much Styrofoam. Before the prisoner could react, he'd seized her by the throat and raised the latter high in the air.

"Imagine when Dubois finds you," Firehair crowed.

Angela gasped. "Then…Child…find you."

"Dijon will deal with the dark brat himself for his atrocities on our kind," Firehair responded coolly dismissing Angela's assessment. "You'll need to do better, _Mortal_." She turned to him. "Do it slowly. Dijon wants the brat to feel her suffer." She smirked ever more so pronounced. In the dimly lit passage, her eyes seemed to glow. "Last words."

Angela fought back a curse and remained silent not wanting to give them the satisfaction. Instead she mouthed a silent prayer.

"_Non? _Very well." Firehair glared at him. "Do it." Then she heard the cell block door open and felt other presences approaching. "Han!"

Reece and Jo approached slowly with their pistols drawn. The former was already on her walkie talkie calling for help as she held the trio at gunpoint.

"HANDS UP! STEP AWAY FROM THE PRISONER!" Reece commanded the intruders. She had no idea how they'd accessed the area. Frankly she could've cared less at that point…something else to ask them during interrogation.

"Never changes," he groused but kept his grip on Angela.

"The lieutenant gave you an order! Didn't you hear her? Back down or we will fire!" Jo reminded them pointedly.

"Oh we hear you both. We just don't care," Firehair retorted. "We have our purpose. Do your worst. You're like children with popguns as far as we're concerned." She took a provocative step toward the two officers.

Reece fired three times. She struck Firehair in the shoulder and leg in addition to hitting him in the upper back. "You had your chance."

He rolled his eyes in annoyance while dropping his burden. "STAY!" He lumbered out into the hallway to see his companion standing up angrily.

Firehair flexed her arms and chuckled sarcastically. "As I said, _children with popguns. _You couldn't stop us from killing Donnelly. You won't stop us now." She motioned him back in the cell. "Watch her. I'll deal with them." Faster than the eye could follow, she streaked toward the officers and backhanded Reece into the concrete wall.

Knocked out by the impact, Reece slumped to the floor; the pistol in her outstretched hand clattering ineffectually to the tile.

"Lieutenant Reece!" Jo exclaimed. She had no idea of how the woman in question had crossed the expanse in barely a heartbeat. Admittedly the other's manner grated on her….

…almost as much as Clarise's did….

Firehair considered her as well. "Interesting. You are not like the others. Step aside. I will speak to the Butcher about you."

"Not…like the others? Others who?" Jo queried while trying to delay the duo until reinforcements could get there.

"The _mortals_. You are like…_him_. Dijon spoke of the Traveler," Firehair revealed pointedly. "Lower your weapon. It cannot hurt me."

"Roxillana, others come!" he insisted. "Kill them! Be done!"

Angela shivered in the corner while feeling the temperature dropping in the cell block. "D…detective. G…get away! You don't want to be here!"

"You're my prisoner, Lady. I'm not leaving you," Jo declined. "Who is this traveler? I want answers!" She stepped between the other female immortal and the others.

Roxilana frowned. "You had your chance." She lowered her shoulder and rammed Jo against the broken door.

Jo felt the jagged steel ripping through her midsection. Her skin strained against her life's blood sticking to it as it flowed from its precious repository.

"Waste!" he spat while grabbing Angela again. Then his nose curled in disgust. "WATCH! HE'S HERE!"

"_Oui_!" Roxilana glared at the impaled detective. "See what you've _done_? Han, get ready! Dijon will reward us if we kill him!"

"H…im?" Jo gasped. The spots danced in front of her eyes. Her limbs felt like lead. She knew the Big Swim wouldn't be long in coming. She sucked in a defiant breath.

"The Child," Angela insisted while almost turning white. She backed as far into the cell as she could. Her face turned almost ghostly white.

"Chi…ld?" Jo coughed. The coppery taste dominated her throat and mouth.

The two hunters assessed the situation guardedly as well.

From the shadows, a deep feral growl emanated. They allowed a stench of ozone and rotten eggs into the area.

A silhouetted figure moved within the dim lighting. Its eyes glowed bright crimson. About a foot lower and to the right, a shape of some sort cast the entire area in an emerald glow revealing its identity.

"Du…bois?" Jo coughed.

"Not him, Fool. The demon!" Roxilana hissed. "Han, KILL HIM!"

"Don't. Just leave. Please!" Angela pleaded with the two hunters. "Don't do this!"

The figure that had been Dubois glared at the quartet through his open left eye. He had no idea of what Jo was doing or who she was. Frankly he could care less. He clearly knew though who the two hunters were. He screamed, screeching louder and more shrilly than a pained banshee in challenge to their presence. While he detested his alter ego's wife, he wasn't about to deal with the pain of the one he called "Big Brother" either.

Besides he had a score to settle with the intruding duo. "'MON! YA'LL WANNA WHUP ME? AH'M WAITIN'!"

"Stupid brat!" Han spat before rushing at the newcomer.

"Dubois, get…out!" Jo yelled.

The Child spat indignantly. His eye glowed to match the brand on the back of his hand. He pointed and fired some sort of dark energy at the charging Mongolian.

The blast enveloped the lumbering assailant burning and freezing the latter. It elicited a pained wail from the latter before he dropped to the ground and turned to dust.

The Child turned to Jo and snarled, "NA' BIG BRO!"

Jo trembled and coughed blood. Her lungs burned. "D…amn!" Having expended her last bit of energy on that realization, she slumped and breathed her supposed last, allowing the bar to prop herself up. As she did so, she slid down the kaleidoscopic tunnel once again reliving those moments from her past as she sped toward her 'rebirth'.

Meantime her body disappeared in a brilliant flash leaving behind her discarded weapon and necklace.

"How?" Angela gasped.

"She is not dead. As Dijon has said, she will regenerate," Roxilana told the duo. "Not that you two will tell anyone." She streaked toward the Child as she had Reece.

He only growled low and angrily. His eye glowed again.

The assailant stopped abruptly as if hitting a wall. She floated in midair as if held by an invisible vice. Then she screamed as the energy consumed her as well disintegrating her into the same ash as her partner.

He curled his lip in disgust while releasing the remains and letting them soil the tile. "Stoopids! W'ere she go?"

Angela rushed past him to where Jo had been. "I have no idea. There's no blood but that's not possible!" She picked up the necklace and considered it. "Amazing." She stuffed it into her pocket to conceal the other's secret.

At that moment, Agents Petersen and Singleton charged into the cellblock and stopped in their tracks at the scene.

"Angie, are you okay?" Petersen demanded while assessing the scene.

"Just shaken up. I'm dealing with the whole situation not to mention what happened at the Cloisters. Two of Dijon's rat pack just tried to kill me," Angie explained selectively choosing not to share what had happened to Jo.

"And you dealt with them?" Singleton presumed of the Child. "You do have a way with people."

The Child glared at the two agents. "Someb'dy hadda an'…." He sniffed the air and spat in disgust. "MUSTARD BOY! He's 'ere!" He heard the footsteps echoing on the stairs above. "WATCH MISS PRISS!" In an ebony flash he disappeared from there.

"Wish he'd do without the stench. Never changes!" Petersen complained while batting the smell away from his nose.

"Try living with it," she groused while checking Reece over. "She's going to have a concussion when she wakes up. I wish I could do more but without proper facilities or instruments…"

Singleton got on his walkie talkie. "Attention. Agent Garth Singleton, FBI. Need ambulance to the 11th Precinct. Officer down. Possible concussion but breathing normal. Unconscious. Appreciate immediate attention." He signed off and whipped out an evidence bag. He stooped over and collected a sample of ash. "He still has his style."

"Some style," Angie supposed incredulously while checking Reece's pulse. "As you said, Garth, pulse is within normal range."

Before she could continue, Hanson stepped in with four other officers with their weapons drawn. "What's going on here?"

"At ease, Gentlemen. It's over. Your real suspects just tried to kill Angela Dubois and Lieutenant Reece," Petersen assured them. "This is now an FBI matter."

"Wait a damn minute! This is bullshit! Look at the cell block! Look at Reece! You can't just pull rank!" Hanson demanded. He pointed his revolver at Angela. "Back away from the lieutenant!"

"Excuse me? I'm a _doctor_! I'm not going anywhere. I'm making sure she's okay. The agents will vouch for that," Angela disagreed.

"As I said, _Detective Hanson_, this is no longer your case." Petersen replied. "Look, I appreciate your concern in this matter. My partner just radioed for an ambulance for Lieutenant Reece. Dr. Dubois is checking her over under our supervision. You're well over your head on this one."

"And Detective Martinez? She was supposed to be down here! I saw her leave with Reece to fetch the Doc there. Explain that!" Hanson pressed.

"Reece was by herself," Angela lied without missing a beat. Granted she hated doing so knowing that such things would come back to bite them all in the ass later. "Maybe she went downstairs?"

"She could have met with Dr. Morgan in the morgue," Singleton supposed while following her lead.

"Yeah. I can buy that much. Our superiors will be talking though, Guys. This ain't over! You ain't makin' this into some stinking horror movie. Damn! Speakin' of which, what the Hell you bring in here? It stinks!" Hanson complained.

"Ask the idiots who attacked her, Detective. Dr. Dubois, I'm sorry but I have to," Singleton retorted with a mix of indignation and apology in his voice. He pulled out his cuffs. "Until we get this settled…."

"I understand. Can I keep my hands in front? Easier on the arms," she requested.

"Sure." He shackled her wrists and put his trench coat over her to conceal the manacles. "Time to clear out, Gentlemen. This is an FBI crime scene now. That includes the security footage from those cameras."

Petersen pulled out a folded paper and handed it to Hanson. "That's the warrant for the security footage and anything of value from this area. Then he produced a roll of security tape. After everyone had backed out of there, he shut the door and sealed it with an "X" of the tape across the door. "The bureau will be back shortly for that evidence. Come along, Doctor, Agent Singleton, we have more to discuss uptown." With that he led them out of the area.

Hanson shook his head knowing that he was the acting next in command. He held the warrant in his hand knowing full well that the FBI could do what they just did. "Unreal! Come on!" He headed up the stairs and toward the precinct proper.

Still you could bet that heads were going to roll. First he'd find Jo. Then he'd make sure protocol was being followed….


	8. Secrets and Blackmail in the Morgue

Chapter 7 [Morgue]

Henry watched the hulking Burgundian immortal carefully. While the latter had treated him well and entertained him from time to time, he was also aware of the other's ability to operate on many levels simultaneously. "So what else are you planning, Bertrand?"

Dijon smirked with dark satisfaction. "Planning? _Moi? Por quoi?_"

"Your eyebrow arched just now. That smirk—I remember it well. You are up to something," the coroner pressed.

The Butcher nodded with respect. "As always, _Henri_, your powers of observation overwhelm me. I am here mainly on business and to remind you of priorities." He surveyed Donnelly's body. "Pity. Donnelly was a noble mortal in his own right. He died a hero protecting his granddaughter. There was no scream even when his neck was broken."

"You killed him," Henry realized. Of course he wasn't surprised given what Dijon had done in the past.

Dijon laughed loudly and sarcastically. "Of course I did! He was violating my kind's laws! Besides I would be avenged for my wife!"

"You still pine for her? Bertrand, Marguerite was a dark sorceress. She…." Henry started.

Dijon seized Henry by the throat and slammed him against the wall. His eyes glowed emerald green. "DO NOT SPEAK OF HER AS SUCH! _OUI! _The tome was hers. Several of our descendants owned and used it at one point or another. But it is MINE! Pity as well I did not kill Dubois! Your _gendarmes _showed up before I…" He stopped his rant and released his grip allowing Henry to slump to the floor. "DAMN!"

"What…?" Henry gasped while rubbing his throat.

"Roxilana and Han! My associates were to kill Donnelly's granddaughter." Dijon frowned. "There is _another _like you, _Henri_. You deceived me."

"Another?" Henry knew that trying to fool the intruder often was an exercise in futility. Still he wasn't about to reveal Jo's situation to him either.

"_Henri_, through my associates, I can feel her. The Latino detective…very lovely and capable. Yes? As I knew your differences immediately so I know…." Dijon raised his hand and cut the conversation off in the bud. "And now the _demon_! Curse Marguerite's arrogance!"

_Poor Mustard Boy. 'is bitch gits burnt an' still whines!_

Henry looked around the room trying to find the source of the telepathic commentary. His mind struggled to understand how such telepathic connections worked having only seen a few rare cases. His ears had heard nothing but the tone grated in his head.

"The shadows, _Henri_," Dijon revealed. "COME OUT!"

The Child stepped into view with a snide smirk on his face. "Wha' ver. Leave Morgie 'lone, Mustard Boy. He's friend." He stalked across the examination area and stopped just out of Dijon's reach. "Maggie got wha's comin'. Jus' like yer gonna git, Buttwipe. Yer twits paid fer their dum'ass shit! So will YA'LL!" His hands glowed dark with eldritch energy.

"I will pay _nothing_! Foolish demon brat! Expose me and expose yourselves!" Dijon felt others approaching from the staircase. "Another time! Remember, _Henri_, say nothing or risk everything! _Au revoir!_" He streaked away, bowling through the door like it was so much pressboard and escaping into the darkening night outside.

Dubois' alter ego likewise felt Hanson and the approaching cops. "Stoopid cops!" He glared at the ME. "Watch yerself! Mustard Boy sucks!" He vanished back into the shadows from whence he'd come.

"My word!" Henry struggled to collect himself. His mind, so versed in the mundane, struggled to cope with the two intruders.

…Dubois' alter ego, the one from the tapestry, was real….

…Dijon had murdered Donnelly and confessed as much. However he'd warned Henry not to reveal it unless his secret be unraveled as well….

…Dijon knew about Jo….

"What did you know, Old Friend?" Henry asked his friend's body. He knew of course that the latter wouldn't answer. Still his mind hungered for answers to make sense of the deepening mess at hand.

"Hey, Doc! You okay?" Hanson queried. Stepping over the splintered remains of the door, he surveyed the rest of the area curiously. "What happened to the door? You get another of our uninvited guests?"

Henry shrugged. "Something came down the stairs, Detective. It made the door explode. I never got a look at what it was. I am terribly sorry for that."

"Hard to believe something would just do that and not take a swipe at anything else in here. Weird," Hanson declared. "You see Jo?"

"Not since the museum. Why?" Henry's mind panicked for a minute. "Is she all right?"

"Last time I saw her, she was with Reece. We found the lieutenant unconscious in the cell block. The cell door was ripped apart. The whole place stank like bad eggs an'…." He curled his nose. "You sure nothing happened, Henry?" Hanson stepped to the corner and batted the air away from his face. "Same smell."

"Perhaps a bad vent?" Henry suggested while trying to think of his next lie. He wasn't about to reveal either of his intruders' presence to his colleagues unless he absolutely had to.

"Maybe. Anyway Jo wasn't there. Petersen and Singleton took jurisdiction over the damn case. They know something," Hanson continued. "You start in Donnelly yet?"

"I was about to. Why pray tell?" Henry queried expectantly.

"I'd rather you're not alone down here. Go home and come back in the morning," Hanson instructed. "As the highest ranking officer here, I could make it an order."

Seeing as he'd rather be looking for Jo anyhow, Henry didn't fight the order. Rather he covered up Donnelly's remains and slid them back into the freezer. Then he gathered his coat and shut his computer down. He walked back out of his office and toward the waiting officers. "Well shall we? I do need to catch the subway uptown."

"Uh uh, Henry. I'm taking you home myself. No need to lose anyone else tonight," Hanson disagreed.

Henry fought the urge to roll his eyes. While he agreed that discretion was usually the better part of valor, he would rather have gone home by himself. Still he wasn't going to refuse the ride especially since Dijon might've been still lurking around the precinct….

…blackmail, secrets and appearances were no fun to deal with after all…..

…no fun at all….


	9. Understandings Reached at Abe's

Chapter 9 [Abe's Antiques—Fifteen minutes earlier]

Fresh off of the debacle at the Cloisters, Abe stood in back of his counter and inspected his ledger with a practiced eye. Maybe it was because of the great run of luck earlier in the week that all of this other stuff was happening? He had to wonder….

_Rubbish! Who would've known that two hateful links from Henry's past would show up at the same time? Stop the self-blame, Abe. It ain't your fault! None of it is. Hope that family's okay though. Who would've believed the granddaughter did it? I've never seen Henry so adamant against the evidence either. This has been some night! _

The doorbell rang as the oak door opened and closed.

"We're closed. Sorry," Abe advised.

"This will only take a minute. I promise you," Dijon advised. He strode purposefully toward the elderly man with a wrapped bundle under his arm. He stopped abruptly three steps in front of the other and considered the shop and its antiquities. "Charming. I would have expected _Henri _to be around much more elegant antiques however."

"A guy gets what he can get. You into antiques?" Abe rebutted defensively while considering the hulking man in front of himself.

"_Oui. _I have…_collected_…my share of treasure you might say. Treasure such as this. The bundle is for _Henri_." He set the bundle on the counter in front of Abe. Then he glanced toward the door again. "It seems he has just arrived."

"_Henri_? Only that nun lady uses that name for him. You two go way back as well?" Abe supposed.

"_Oui_. We met a long time ago in New Orleans. I am Bertrand du Dijon." With that he turned to face the door. "It seems he has returned."

Seeing the headlights outside, Abe frowned. "It could be anyone. You sure?" His own suspicions were starting to clash in his gut.

"Oh I _know_. Be patient. It will only be a talk," Dijon promised.

Abe rolled his eyes. _It had better be that._

[Outside]

Henry reclined in the passenger seat and glanced out the window. His mind drowned in worry over Jo despite knowing that she'd probably regenerated. He knew that she'd be okay following her swim.

Question was how would she get back to her apartment or the store?

_We do need to work out a system of sorts. It is strange I never thought of such things before. Perhaps we can triangulate where we most likely surface upon rebirth? It is a thought…. _He scratched his chin while mentally filing the musing for later consideration.

Hanson glanced over at him. "Penny for your thoughts, Doc?"

"Pardon?" Henry queried not getting the driver's gist.

"What's on your mind? You seem a million miles away," Hanson assessed. "You okay?"

"Yes. Terrible thing to look at your friend on the table like that. It is harder than I thought it would be," Henry replied while trying to sound as earnest as possible.

"It is okay, ya know."

Henry quirked an eyebrow. "What is? I do not follow, Detective."

"It's okay to worry about her. We're all there with you. Makes you human," Hanson assured him while pulling up in front of the antique shop. "Here we are. You want me to wait a minute?"

"Thank you, Detective. I'm fine but I do appreciate it. If I hear from Jo, I'll have her call you," Henry assured him while getting out of the car. "Thanks once again for the ride."

"Anytime, Henry. Hang in there," Hanson concurred while forcing a smile onto his face. He always thought the coroner was too preoccupied in his own world for his own good. However on that night, there was an excuse. "See you tomorrow." With that he drove off toward his home.

Henry smiled in the departing car's direction warmly. Despite the friction which sometimes did grind at them, he knew Hanson was collegial and tried to understand him. _It is certainly more than others have done over the past two centuries! _He noted that the lights were on in the store and the door was unlocked. "Quite unusual indeed." He opened the door and stepped into the shop. Seeing Dijon speaking with Abe, he stopped abruptly. "Dijon? Abe, are you all right?"

"Yeah other than his insults toward my stock and trade," the antiquarian complained.

Dijon curled his lip indignantly. He'd crushed the life out of men for challenging him in such ways. Still he didn't consider Abe worth his time especially since he didn't want to alienate Henry totally. "Well done, _Henri_. We did not need the detective, no? Not with the delivery I have for you." He motioned toward the bundle on the counter.

"Says it's for you. Careful with that, Henry," Abe advised with an air of sarcasm.

"Abraham, don't taunt him please," Henry countered caringly. "We've lost Alexander tonight. I do not wish to lose you as well."

"Wise sentiments indeed. That, I believe, should be enough to exonerate Angela Dubois, _Henri_," Dijon agreed.

Henry unwrapped it to find a bloodied spear. While inspecting the end, he found its blade point to be chipped….

….much as with the fragment still in his pocket.

"I don't understand, Dijon. _Por quoi?_" Henry wondered.

The Butcher scoffed. "The duel between Dubois and myself is our affair. I do not want your _gendarmes_ involved, _Henri_. Do not be mistaken. I will kill him and the sow in my own time. Then my beloved will be avenged. It has been good to see you again. My regards to you and your companion. _Bon chance!_" He sensed a disturbance in the alley. "I will depart. It seems my wayward stepdaughter looks to lecture me again. Not tonight." With that he stalked out of the front door and took off into the night sky.

Abe stared at the window. "Henry! Did he just _fly_?"

"Yes, Abe. He did. Dijon, despite his bloodthirstiness, is a man of honor. Granted his code is a twisted one but it is a code nonetheless." Henry exhaled in relief knowing that his adopted son was all right. Still he wondered about Jo….

…but only for a minute…

Right on cue, the detective opened the door and rushed right to him. "Henry! Are you all right?"

"That is my question for you," he replied while keep his voice even and calm. "What happened?"

"Reece and I went to the cell block to get Dubois for questioning. Two nasty creeps beat us to her. We shot them but it didn't do any good. They backhanded Reece against the wall. This lady impaled me on the cell door's bars. Henry, that's not all. I saw David Dubois do impossible things. He killed both of the assailants leaving just dust. His eyes glowed and he made the whole place turn icy cold."

"You saw _Le Puer _not Dubois, Detective Martinez," Clarise corrected as she entered the shop. She looked around the area and nodded. "I am amazed he left the place in one piece." She considered the spear on the counter. "That was his. The blood's is Donnelly's."

"So we have our answer. You were right back at the Cloisters, Henry. We can have an APB put out on that guy before…." Jo proposed.

"No we can't," Henry disagreed somberly.

"Excuse me? Henry, that guy's a murderer! Justice needs to be served! He'll go after David and Angela Dubois again!" Abe protested.

"_Oui. _He shall, Abraham. Yet the Butcher fails to understand my mother's handiwork. _Le Puer _will be waiting for him and his band. One day the Dark One will eliminate my stepfather," Clarise assured them. "Your means cannot contain him. Our kind works to do so. Still it is a task in its own right."

"Excuse me? Your kind?" Jo queried in confusion.

"_Oui. _I am what he is thanks to _Nicolas_. We survive in the night. He murders while I seek to serve the Lord even in my fallen state," Clarise clarified. Her eyes glowed bright emerald green. "Marguerite was my mother much to my shame."

"So that tapestry in the speaking room…that was Dubois? _It happened?_" Abe deduced. His eyes went wide.

"Unfortunately it did. Pity Dubois for he deals with more than you know. With this failure, the Butcher will redouble his efforts more than likely. I would rather you both stay out of harm's way. _Henri_, use the spear to clear Angela Dubois of the crime. Then she can mourn in peace. Attribute it to one of the attackers in the cell area."

"I'm not into lying about facts, Lady," Jo challenged.

"In this case, it is necessary," Henry disagreed. While he definitely agreed with Jo, he knew such fudging was a mandatory evil in this case. "Besides Dijon as far as we know did kill Alexander. He admitted as much to me. Consider who would believe that a man supposedly dead for the last 571 years committed the act? Given Reece's attitudes, you'd be at Belleview for evaluation, I guess."

While she hated to admit it, she knew he was right. "Fine. We say the Big Asian guy who assaulted us in the lockup did it. He and the red haired woman wanted to clean up after themselves by murdering Angela Dubois. Reece should buy it. Wish we could be honest."

"Not if you value your career or future, Jo," Clarise insisted. "_Henri_'s plan is sound. I suggest we follow it. Now if you would like, might we have some tea? I believe you wanted some questions answered, no?"

"I can brew up something in the back," Abe concurred. "Let me lock up first. I wanna hear this." He headed for the front.

Henry grimly headed for the back. He knew this conversation would take much of the evening to say the least. Consequently he went for his lab to find his journals from New Orleans and the travels he shared with Clarise.

Jo shook her head at the group. All she wanted was answers, right? Yet everyone reacted like she'd wanted some top secret thing. _What have you gotten me into, Henry? It is okay. I know how to keep a secret. Honest! _ She followed the others into the kitchen area where the coffee would soon start flowing.

That and the conversation that followed would be something else…something else indeed….


	10. Closure at the Courthouse

Chapter 10 [Next Morning]

[Jo's Apartment]

Jo tossed and turned in her bed for most of the evening and early morning. Her mind struggled to deal with all of the recent revelations. Oh she could wrap her head around being immortal. Her relationship with Henry was definitely something she treasured.

...yet the near death experiences always left her wasted and frankly embarrassed….

…Clarise's true nature was unsettling to say the least….

…There were others like her including Henry's 'friend', Dijon, from the past…..

…And then there was the whole event at the precinct including Dubois' alter ego frying two other immortals to defend Angela Dubois from death….

Her eyes snapped open. She frowned deeply while staring up at the ceiling. "How do I deal with this? How will we explain it to Reece?" She reclined almost feeling helpless at that last thought. "So much for the career…."

Her phone rang cutting into her thoughts.

"Oh now what?" she muttered drowsily. She reached for the cell sitting on her nightstand and put it slowly to her ear. "Martinez."

"Detective, this is Petersen. You up?" Petersen noted.

"I am now. What's going on now? Sorry I'm still dealing with last night," Jo declared morosely. She knew if he was calling at that point, he'd want her to get Henry and meet him some place official.

"Including your exit from the cellblock? I'm interested in how you pulled that one off." Almost anticipating her panic, he assured her, "Relax. It's a secret between Singleton, me and you. Dr. Morgan is on his way up here. Can you meet us at the Federal Courthouse. 37th and 9th?"

"Can't turn down coffee and donuts, can I?" she quipped.

"Breakfast will be waiting, Detective. Dave's seeing to it as we speak," Petersen assured her.

"Dubois' there? Is it okay?" Jo wondered with uncertainty.

"He's back to normal if that's what you mean. If you can make it ASAP, I'd appreciate it," Petersen continued before concluding, "See you soon, Detective. It will be all right. Take care." He hung up.

_That's your view, Chief. He knows? You really did a bang up job in letting them see you! _She headed for the shower hoping that there would be a way to smooth things over for Henry's sake as well as hers.

This was going to be some morning too…..

[Half an Hour Later—Federal Courthouse]

Henry emerged from the subway about a half of a block down from the granite structure. As with Jo, his mind sought not to drown in the frenzied situation about them. "Wish I knew what Singleton had up his sleeve." He sighed to himself knowing that in the past, such things meant that he'd move on.

Fortunately the agent in question had vowed his secrecy in the matter.

_Wish I could take him at his word. I'll have to see. _He walked briskly down the sidewalk and toward the meeting place. As he did so, he noticed a street vendor with floral bouquets in her cart. _Jo would appreciate the touch, I'm sure! _He turned in her direction. "Good morning, Madame. I'd be interested in buying a bouquet please."

The elderly African-American lady nodded and offered a quick anxious smile. "That'd be nice, Sir. It'll be $7.50."

He counted out ten dollars and handed the bills to her. "Keep the change." Accepting the flowers from her, he sniffed deeply of the pink and white blooms and smiled broadly.

"Nice, aren't they? I love the scent," she observed happily. "One of the perks of having the cart. Thank you, Sir. You have a marvelous day."

"Beautiful flowers are one of life's benefits to be sure. You have a splendid day as well," he concurred before heading off toward the courthouse. Much as he'd suggested, his spirits seemed to lift a bit. He tried to imagine how the flowers might make Jo feel better…

…how he wanted her to feel better and share his own feelings with her….

_She's been through so much in such a short time. Still she wants to be with you. Henry, you're a lucky man! _He nodded at that sentiment while heading toward the courthouse. Perhaps when they were finished with the proceedings inside, he'd offer her an exquisite lunch at their favorite eatery in Sojo….

…more than likely knowing Jo, she'd want a ham and cheese at the duck pond in Central Park….

_Either way it's pure Paradise for us! _He climbed about halfway up the stairs before seeing the Duboises doing the same. "Good morning, David and Dr. Dubois. My condolences."

"Thank you," Angela accepted gratefully. "It was quite an evening…not the way we wanted it to go for sure."

Henry studied the other man who seemed perhaps a bit white and peaked for his own good. He could clearly see the ever-so-slight tremoring in the other's hands under a familiar paperboard donut box. He also discerned the heaviness in the professor's eyes. "No. Dr. Donnelly would not have wanted it that way…nor, I believe, would have Dr. Alvaro either if Alexander's assessment was correct."

David slowly raised his head to allow his eyes to meet the coroners. Sadness and pain echoed from them. "No, neither Grandpa Alex nor Grandpa himself would have…wanted that. Funny how it keeps finding me though. Angie and I need to make calls across the Pond as soon as you're done with him. We can fly his body to be buried back there."

Henry nodded in satisfaction. "I will wrap it up this afternoon. Perhaps we might meet the agents inside? I trust that is breakfast?"

"After what happened last night, it was the least we can do," Angela pointed out.

"Angela, it wasn't your fault…_either of you_. Others are responsible. The NYPD officially dropped the charges against you once the evidence was processed," Henry reported.

"Dijon left the murder weapon and then slunk out of town in the dark, didn't he?" David presumed. "Typical of him…_snake_." He shuddered with a rather pronounced tone and allowed a brief snarl to escape his lips.

"Dave, it's okay. We're fine," his wife assured him.

"Tell that to Grandpa Alex and Dijon's other victims. Tell that to Peggy, Dr. Samuelsohn and his wife. One day it will stop. I will _make_ the Butcher _stop_," David asserted.

"Or rather _Le Puer _shall do the deed? David, I caution you about Lord Bertrand. You don't know him like I do," Henry advised guardedly.

David sighed. "Dr. Morgan, I was waiting to give you something as a thank you gift. However I think now is the time. Angie?"

"Here you go, Doctor," she concurred. She slipped a book from her large handbag and handed it to Henry.

Henry considered the thick tome in his hands admiring the weighty feel. Flipping through the pages, even a quick skim discerned the depth of scholarship and footnoting in its contents. As the cover flipped back shut, his eyes went wide…..

…it was about Dijon….

Henry saw the dust jacket's photo and looked up at David who simply nodded.

"Yes, Dr. Morgan, I can say I've written the book on him. In order to stay alive and keep those I love alive, I researched and wrote that to learn more about that peacock. That is about his mortal existence before his _transformation _into what he is now. Read it. What you saw last night coincides with his typical m. o. He takes what he wants. He eliminates loose ends. You'll know what an efficient creep he is," David elaborated. "If she pushes it, tell Reece she's lucky. Dijon could have wiped that entire precinct clean." He checked his watch. "Garth and Steve are waiting. I promised them these. Let's table this until we get in there."

"That would suffice. I was just waiting for Detective Martinez," Henry indicated while straightening himself up. He took a deep breath.

"Hence the flowers? Nice touch," Angela complimented.

"I thought as much as well," Henry concurred. Admittedly he didn't feel comfortable talking in the open about such things. Still he wanted to make sure Jo was all right. Seeing her emerge from the parking garage across the street, he waved to her broadly.

Jo crossed the street quickly and walked briskly up to the trio in question. _Put the suspicions on hold. Doesn't seem like Dubois' as 'normal' as Petersen would think. _"Hi, Everyone. Breakfast committee?"

"Of a sort. Good to see that you're all right, Detective," Angela replied pleasantly. "By the way, I have something for you." She reached into her pocket and produced Jo's necklace. "You left that behind when you…disappeared. I didn't want anyone finding it." She handed it to Jo.

"Thanks." Jo accepted the necklace gratefully and looked to Henry anxiously. "Sorry about that. Last night was…"

"When it happens, Jo, everything gets left behind. I understand. Hold still," Henry lifted her hair and helped secure the necklace's clasp to hold the bauble in place. Then he let her mane drop back into place ever so gently. "At least we have friends who can look out for us. Shall we go inside then? I presume they're waiting."

"They are and knowing our intrepid duo, they're starving," Dubois assumed with an amused smirk. "Let's get these through security. Then we can hear what they have to say."

"Sounds great," his wife agreed. She glanced around as they finished climbing the granite stairs and walked into the building. They went through the metal detector with no issues.

"FBI's waiting for you folks in Room 312 upstairs," the guard, a middle aged African-American noted flatly. "Have a great day, Folks."

"You too. Thanks," Jo expressed. After they got into the elevator and started up the stairs. "Petersen said he'd keep secrets. Umm…how is he about that?"

"If he said it, he's like Fort Knox in that regard," Angela assured her. "They've kept Dave's situation under wraps since high school."

"They've seen the whole gambit. Trust me they're tougher than the typical government agents," Dubois concurred. "Besides, Dr. Morgan, I still owe you."

"I consider it even but if we ever need help in the future perhaps?" Henry queried.

"_Legally," _Jo emphasized while still not crazy about the whole vigilante thing she'd seen on the previous night.

"Speaking for myself, I don't have a problem. Try telling _him _that though," Dubois replied before pointing at his head for emphasis.

"Yeah your inner wild child." Jo glanced at him anxiously. "He's…_different_."

"He's that from what people tell me. I don't know," Dubois declared. "When he comes out, I have no memory of it. On last night, I'll have to take your word for it." Reaching the designated room, he rapped on it. "Honey dip crew for the starving Bond crew!"

Singleton opened the door and stuck his head out. "Cute, Dave. Come in. That goes for everyone else as well. Steve will be off the phone in a minute." He opened it the rest of the way and ushered them into the meeting room.

"So everything is finished then?" Henry queried expectantly.

"As soon as you sign off on Dr. Donnelly's body, Dave and Angie will take him home," Singleton reported. "Coffee, guys? Just made it."

Petersen disconnected the call he was making and slid his phone back into his blazer pocket. "Good morning, Everyone. I trust you're feeling better?"

"Still collecting ourselves after last night, Steve," Dubois assessed with an almost sickly grin on his face.

"Yeah well we don't have to worry about the NYPD making issues for any of you. I just spoke with Commissioner Paulson. He wanted to express his appreciation for keeping the mess contained at the Cloisters and at the precinct. He's had the case file against you wiped, Angie. I've done the same for the security footage in the cellblock. Detective Martinez, there's no trace of you being there either. See you found your necklace. I looked all over for it," Petersen indicated. He motioned toward the table. "I recovered your revolver however."

"Thanks for that at least. Any word on those creeps or the missing book?" Jo expressed. She slid the gun into its sheath at her side and felt glad for its familiar weight there.

"No sign of Dijon, his cronies or that damn tome," Singleton noted. "Knowing the Butcher, he's long gone with it."

"If that book's anywhere nearby, I'd feel it," Dubois added while setting out plates for everyone. "So are we finished then?"

"With this particular case, yeah. Dave, I don't have to tell you to be careful with Dijon. That book is nothing but trouble," Petersen advised.

"We're very well aware of that, Steve. Thank you though," Angela interjected. "I don't know what we're going to do with Grandpa Alex's things."

"We have the family to help us. Let's worry about mourning first. All right?" Dubois replied as caringly as he could. He embraced her tightly as her eyes watered. "It's okay. Let it out."

Angela sobbed silently in her husband's arms.

"As I said, enough pain," Dubois reiterated to the duo. "We'll be back." He helped his wife from the room.

"Wow. I know she and her grandfather were close but…." Jo presumed.

"They've seen more than their share I would imagine," Henry informed her. He recalled well the malice in his past associate. Still he'd never seen the aftermath….

…aftermath such as what he and Jo had seen over the previous 24 hours….

"Remind me not to get in that Butcher's way, Henry. When we get back, I will want some questions answered on him," Jo noted firmly.

"Nor would I want to be there either," Henry agreed while grabbing for a plain doughnut. He mused over the case at hand. _Why do you play the game, Bertrand? Can't you see the damage you do? _He bit into his breakfast with a heavy heart.

They'd skirted a political storm but other potential ones awaited.

And he'd watch out for them both….watch carefully indeed….


	11. Reece Picks an Argument

Chapter 11

[Just after lunch—Precinct]

After a couple of hour long talk with the two agents and an impromptu lunch with Henry, Jo read over the file for a new case. Perhaps it was too soon…with Donnelly's body still being downstairs and all…but her mind needed to move on so it could cope.

To their credit, the agents and the Duboises answered her questions patiently and with more than expected detail. They filled her and, at times, Henry in on the history behind the case and the players involved. They told lurid stories of crimes and murder where the authorities looked the other way….

…perhaps because some segments of the culture operated by their own rules…

_I can't believe some of that stuff really happens! I can't believe that book really has that kind of effect. Magic? Yeah right…except you saw Dubois' inner creep come out and those other immortals. Kind of makes you think…._

She glanced at the bouquet sitting in its tinted glass on the corner of her desk. She smiled warmly at it. It served as a reminder of Henry's constancy. Once again, in his own reserved way, he reminded her of how he was there for her. Despite all of the changes in their partnership and developing relationship, he wanted to be her rock…her anchor in the adjustment to immortality.

_Leave it to Henry to have the flowers ready not to mention that lunch arranged at Le Sheik! Careful, Jo, you're starting to lose it, _she noted while allowing a self-teasing note at the end. She knew her partner was the real deal.

She wanted to be his real deal too….

_I'll get there, Henry. Just keep being patient. _She allowed herself a warm smile.

"Hey, Jo. Glad to see you're okay. Who sent the flowers?" Hanson wondered.

"Henry gave them to me this morning when we wrapped up the Donnelly case. Sorry to scare you all last night. I chased one of the perps out of here and down the alley. The creep got away," she replied half-truthfully. To be honest, she amazed herself at how she pulled off the lie with ease. "How's everything with you?"

"I'm glad Reece checked out okay. Glad not to be doing administrative stuff, you know? Getting steam rolled by those two agents was not fun last night," Hanson admitted. "You really had us worried last night. Henry too. Guess that's why he gave you the flowers."

"Yeah it is. He took me to lunch just to let me know that. I appreciate the concern, Hanson. We've had a lot of stuff coming our way the past few months, haven't we?" she supposed. She reached for the coffee cup and took a heavy draught from it.

"It's been intense." Hanson wanted to ask more about Henry but didn't. "How's he handling it?"

"Last night? He's dealing with the death of an old friend and finishing the autopsy on him right now. It's hard but we're getting through it. Taking me to lunch was part of his way of dealing with it. I'm glad he's finally opening up," she explained.

"And Dubois? I saw his file last night. Talk about a guy with a cracker short of a box."

She shrugged. "He's more complex than you'd think. Henry and I just spent a couple of hours with him and his wife. Yeah he's intense and can be downright intimidating at times. However at others, I saw a caring husband and friend. There are reasons he has his issues, Hanson. You don't want to meet up with them."

"And you did?"

She nodded. "Two of them broke into that cell block last night. One of them was the guy I chased. I just hope I never have to deal with that stuff again." She saw Reece approaching them slowly and with a pronounced gait. "Lieutenant?"

"Good to see you back, Jo. Is the case closed?" Reece supposed.

"Other than Henry discharging Donnelly's body back to his family, it is. Ready for the next case," Jo replied while trying to skirt the issue at hand.

Reece, however, was having none of it. "Not just yet. I know David and Angela Dubois are down there. Come with me. I want a word with all of you and Dr. Morgan." She added an expectant look for good measure.

"Yeah. I'd best get to that Rickerts case," Hanson excused himself before departing from the middle of the developing crap fest.

"All right. Let's go," Jo concurred while getting up from her chair and slipping the folders into her locked file drawer. Then she followed the superior toward the morgue. _Now what are we going to do? I just hope she doesn't set Dubois off!_

[Morgue]

[A/N: And here comes quite an argument—brace yourselves!]

Henry checked every detail of Donnelly's body and clothing. As with the case itself, he felt he owed it to the deceased and his family to ensure that all of the details were taken care of. While not normally part of his duties, he brushed Donnelly's hair and stood back. "Alexander, you look as you should."

"I appreciate it, Dr. Morgan," Angela expressed from where she and her husband watched him at work. "He always spoke well of you. Now I know why."

"To have good friends, one must be a good friend," Henry quipped. "Your grandfather took great pains to be so, Angela. Making sure his case is taken care of is a duty I take most seriously. I can call a particular mortuary if you'd like?"

"Not unless it's Bartleby's in London," Dubois declined. "I've already made the call over there. Apparently our mutual friend took care of the financial considerations."

"Mutual friend? Forgive me, David, I do not follow," Henry queried.

"_Nicolas _apparently made the arrangements. Quite the guy. He definitely gets around," Dubois noted wryly. "Angie and I will make sure Grandpa Alex gets across the Pond in good order. As you said, we owe him that much."

Henry quirked an eyebrow at that latest observation. He knew that his mysterious benefactor had connections around the world. Still the latter did amaze him at times with the casual 'reach out and touch' approach to things. "He most certainly does know how to swoop in at a moment's notice, does he not?"

"Indeed he does. None of us would be alive if he didn't, Doc," Dubois concurred. His eyes turned toward the door. "Incoming, Dr. Morgan. You expecting your boss?"

"Not really. I wonder what could be the reason behind her visit?" Henry queried. Seeing Reece and Jo walk through the door, he didn't need his keen insight to tell him that the former was none too thrilled with how events had gone down. "Good afternoon, Lieutenant. What might I do for you?"

"Good afternoon, Dr. Morgan, Professor and Dr. Dubois. I trust everything is in order concerning Dr. Donnelly's remains?" Reece queried. She tried to sound pleasant and professional yet an uncharacteristic terseness in such situations colored her voice.

"It is. We were just finishing things up. All that remains is to take my grandfather's body to Kennedy and fly him to London for burial," Angela replied pleasantly. "Are you doing all right, Lieutenant?"

"Detective Hanson informed me that you tended to me while I was unconscious, Doctor. I do appreciate that. Might we step into Dr. Morgan's office however? There are some things that need to be said," Reece expressed.

"Of course," Henry concurred albeit reluctantly. He did not want any kind of standoff—be it verbal or otherwise—to occur. Still orders were orders. He motioned the couple and Jo toward his office and stepped in after them before shutting the door.

"What is this about, Lieutenant?" Angela queried anxiously. She could see her husband's mouth curling into a frown already. "We do have a plane to catch."

"Not before what needs to be addressed, Dr. Dubois." Reece cleared her throat. "Your husband needs to understand that acts of vigilantism are not to be tolerated in this jurisdiction."

Dubois shook his head and rolled his eyes at her. He snickered rather rudely. "Neither is police ineptitude but you excel at it. Spare me. Alexander Donnelly's dead because you all _tied _my hands back at the Cloisters. You _should be dead_, Lady as should my wife and Detective Martinez. My other half _stopped that_." He folded his arms across his chest. "This is your first taste of such stuff, isn't it? I saw your officers struggling to understand what was going on last night. You have _no idea_ how bad it could've been."

"And you do? Mr. Dubois…." Reece retorted.

"I've been dealing with that shit since I was four years old, Lieutenant. Damn right I know! Alex isn't the first person targeted over this mess! I've lost a great deal because you damn donut-munching political lapdogs are more interested in _kissing the mayor's ass _than _doing your damn job!_" Dubois snapped at her. He started to breathe heavily and spasmed.

"Lieutenant, may I suggest we…?" Henry interceded recognizing the signs of the coming episode in the other man.

"No, Dr. Morgan, I will not take that!" Reece pressed.

"Tough…cuz tha's all yer gonna git, Toots." The Child raised his head slowly almost like a cobra sizing up its prey. "Ah saved yer punk ass las' night from Mustard Boy's creeps! An' ya whine, whine, whine! Stoopid po…lice! Jus' like when they killed Peggy! Jus' like when the big pic…ture happened! When THEY BURNED US!"

"Picture? I…." Reece struggled to understand. She reached for her revolver. "Mr. Dubois, get a hold of yourself or I'll…."

"NA' BIG BRO, STOOPID! TYPICAL COP! YA THINK YER SO GREAT CUZ A' YER BADGE AN' GUN! YER NOTHIN!" the Child bellowed right in her face.

"Henry, what?" Jo wondered.

Henry rubbed his forehead while trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Picture…picture….

Then he remembered….the tapestry….the _auto-da-fe_. "You? You're…."

"He gits it. Yeah tha's right. Ah'm the guy they burned in the damn thing! 'KAY? An' tha's after cops failed ta SAVE PEGGY AN' TEACHER! YA DON' KNOW NOTHIN'!" Seeing her hand reaching for the gun, his eye glowed brightly.

The pistol flew from her grasp and hit the wall across the room.

"Don' even think it, Sweets. Like Big Bro said, Gra'pa dead cuz a' ya! Nex' time Ah might let yer skank ass die! Stoopids!" The Child spat indignantly on the floor. "Mon, Miss Priss, time ta split. T'anks, Morgie, fer help 'fore." He grabbed Angela's hand and focused.

The couple and Donnelly's body disappeared in a dark flash leaving only the reek of sulfur and ozone in their wake.

"What the Hell?" Jo inquired. She rushed out into the main morgue area and stared incredulously at the empty examination table. "Where did it go?"

"He just _vanished_? Where did they go?" Reece demanded.

"There is no telling, I fear. Unless you'd wish to contact Scotland Yard, I'd suggest you let the matter rest, Lieutenant. Let David and Angela bury Alexander Donnelly in peace and go on with their lives," Henry proposed as respectfully as possible. "You were not in Rowenshire on that day." He bowed his head from the _Memoria_'s burden….

[Rowenshire, MA—June 20, 1978]

Henry sprinted as hard as he could across a grassy field. He could hear a group of bloodthirsty villagers pursuing him. He needed to reach the woods and seek refuge there. Once he did so, he could use the foliage to make his way back to the village center and the rented car there.

Still he needed to make it there _alive _and with his secret intact…That was a big if at that point.

A rifle shot echoed through the late spring air. A bullet caromed off of a tree just to his left.

He stumbled down the hill and into the brush therein. He crawled through the cover smearing himself in mud in the process. He endured stinging mosquitoes and just evaded a few snakes trying to strike him.

"An' who art thou? Woe be thee!" A spectral image of a woman in eighteenth century clothes and long flowing hair floated in the air in front of him.

'_Nough, Mistress! Bring him 'fore me. He saved the boy. Ah'll give 'im a favor! _a dark voice instructed.

She spat malevolently. "Aye, Master! Come!" She floated toward the east.

Henry hobbled through the woods. Through the trees, he could see a valley with a matching patch of dead grass similar to the one he'd just escaped from. "You're dressed…from another time?"

"Aye! Mah time an'…." She turned and considered him. "Yer from tha' time too! Yer na' jus' a mortal, art thou?"

_Nay. He is not, _the voice grated on her and his psyches.

Henry stumbled into the field to see a large bonfire burning in its center. Circling around it, a large pack of feral half-breed coy-dogs considered him.

Two spots appeared in the flames. _Welcome, Henry Morgan. You seek death? I shall give it to you!_

The world erupted in a blast of heat and fire as the memory ended…..

[Modern Day, Morgue]

Jo shook him hard. "Henry? Henry! What is it?"

He forced himself out of the flashback and nearly jumped at the sight of them. "What? Sorry…I was just remembering that day in Rowenshire."

"Rowenshire? That's the village Dubois' from. Doctor, what?" Reece queried. "Are you all right?"

"Henry, it's all right," Jo assured him. "Sorry, Lieutenant." She embraced him tightly. "You saw something?"

"I did. I saw the lynch mob trying to kill him and his family as they were trying to leave. The sheriff watched it happen. I also saw what made Dubois what he is." He composed himself with great effort.

"What was it? Was it that tapestry, Henry? That stuff really isn't true," Jo denied.

"It is. I had a close call. You might recall the mention of exposure in Athol along the Quabbin Reservoir from my record?" he supposed.

"I saw it. Henry, you were attacked, badly burned and thrown in? Why did you let yourself be cited like that? Certainly somebody in the area would've dealt with it?" Reece queried.

"As a man of science, I did not believe before that point, Lieutenant. Now I do." Henry took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I'm not up to my usual self today. I'd like to take the afternoon please?"

"Of course. Jo, go with him. We can handle the cases for today and tomorrow. While it was 30 years ago, Doctor, I'll make some calls and get that case taken off of your record," Reece relented. "And once again, my sympathies for your friend."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. I most certainly appreciate that," he noted while collecting his coat. "Mind a ride?"

"A loaf of bread and some ducks need feeding, I think," Jo concurred while rubbing his arm. "Come on." She took his hand and led him from the morgue area.

Reece shook her head. She was a woman of the modern age. She considered herself a person of science, reason and above superstition. Yet she'd seen a great deal on that day which defied such logic….

…a half possessed man raving at her and nearly going nuclear in her precinct building…

…and she saw a man, Henry Morgan, reduced to a state of uncertainty and being forced to admit to the same uncertainty in himself….

"Unbelievable," she muttered. Seeing Lucas walk in, she noted, "You'll be working with Dr. Steiner this afternoon. Dr. Morgan is taking some sick time."

"Wow. The doc never takes sick time. Hope he's going to be all right. Thanks, Lieutenant," he indicated.

"You're welcome," Reece replied flatly while heading out the door. She definitely had a lot of thinking to do….

Lucas shook his head. He batted the cloying ozone odor away. "Man who let the rotten smell in here? Gross!" He went for the fan hoping to dissipate the smell.

Such was the case in the eleventh on that day as one world butted into another….


	12. Parting Observations

Conclusion [Abe's Antiques—that evening]

The afternoon passed in duck feeding, cappuccinos and small talk between Henry and Jo. After the morning's stress, the bliss provided a much-needed tonic for the couple. In between flings of stale bread, she asked questions and he answered them as best he could for her. The hot caffeine jarred his memory still further.

Yet no guarantees would be forthcoming it seemed…..

Henry sat at the kitchen table in back of the main store in somber meditation after moonrise. He'd invited Jo inside but she'd declined wanting to do some thinking of her own about what happened on the previous day. Granted he felt disappointed but the opportunity presented another chance to reflect on the past once more.

And so _Memoria _pulled back its layers once more…

[Boudoin Manor—1856]

Henry tried to enjoy the gala within the ancient manor house. He loved the music. Several young ladies had accepted his invitation to dance. He'd made a few social connections with the local aristocrats and town officials.

All in all, it seemed successful….

…save for the fact that Henry knew he'd need to move on…

He stepped out into the humid evening and stood between worlds. On the one hand, he remained close enough that the music continued to caress his ears. On the other, he could gaze up at the far-away stars in _Nocturne_'s dark backdrop and hear a few nightingales chirping softly in the breeze.

"The party not to your liking, _Henri_?"

He turned to see Dijon watching him from the doorstep. He could see the latter smoking from an ornate pipe and pondering some deeper issue. "Forgive me. It is very nice. I needed some air however."

"You need to place these events in their proper context. I understand. I too adjusted to immortal life as you are doing now, _mes Ami_. They are but playthings now to us. We are _immortal_. Remember that. We are brothers of a sort. I will call on you. If it suits me, I shall do the same for you," Dijon informed him.

"I am not your slave," Henry denied.

"_Non, Henri_. I never said as much. However we should remember to favor each other as we move through the ages. Whether you stay or go, you are welcome. I will expect however a favor in return however…." Dijon continued before walking back into the hose and toward his guests.

Henry looked toward the night sky once more. He had the sneaky feeling that the debt would weigh heavier still on him at some future time. Still he couldn't know at that point/…

…nor would he for a while yet….

[Modern Day]

The bell from the front door stirred Henry back to the present. He shook his head while standing and straightening his clothes. _When you talk of favors, Bertrand, I never thought you'd mean that! _He strode purposefully into the main store area where he found Abe and Clarise talking.

"Hey, Henry. Look who came by to see you. I'll make us some coffee. Given how this might go, you'll need it," Abe advised. "Great seeing you again, Clarise. My sympathies about your colleagues."

She nodded. "The Duboises will appreciate the sentiments concerning _Alexandre_. David, however, already presses on to his next endeavor. Until our next meeting, Abraham, _au revoir_!" After the elderly man departed, she turned to Henry. "Pondering the great mysteries of the universe, are we?

"Nothing so lofty, Clarise. I was just remembering Dijon's dinner party back at the manor," he revealed.

"Yes that. He later boasted to me of your mutual ties. _Henri_, you are not obligated to him in _any way_. Please remember that. He is a bully seeking to manipulate you to his own ends. That is all," she pointed out.

"Such as coercing a lie on that last case?" he queried disdainfully.

"That was not Dijon. It was a simple matter of preserving the balance and ensuring your colleagues' safety. If you had exposed the Butcher, others would have come and kept coming until every trace of the exposure was gone. I certainly do not need to remind you of deeper implications, _Henri_. You have always been mindful of such things. Consider your lovely companion. She faced danger because of Dijon's vendetta. Be grateful _Le Puer _contained that," she clarified.

"So will it always be like this for Jo and me? And how is it for David Dubois? Will he always struggle as he has today? Alex spoke as much of him," he wondered.

Clarise shrugged. "Just as David does, you should continue to preserve the balance. He has done so since before that unfortunate standoff decades ago. You are friend, brother, lover and now teacher much as he as well. I would hope you would be a better teacher than _Nicolas _was for either of us. A great deal depends on it. Just consider that carefully." She checked her watch. "I am due back in Quebec City soon. I came to compliment you on your demeanor in our crisis and to wish you well. Jo is an impressive companion for you. Watch out for her, _Henri_."

"And you take care as well, Sister. Watch yourself. Dijon still seethes," he advised in return.

"I know of his inner fire but _merci, Henri. Au revoir!_" She walked out of the store, around the corner into the alley and took off into the night.

"Unbelievable!" He'd seen her do that dozens of times. Yet he still couldn't get over how she could fly like a bird. He could see her point in keeping the balance and discretion over the deeper matters of state…

…matters that post-modern secular society was ill-equipped to deal with….

_How will I show Jo the way? I am not a teacher. How will I do so? _He sighed deeply knowing somehow that the mess at hand was not the last he'd see of the Butcher nor the former nun. He hoped that the next time would see him and Jo better equipped to deal with it than this one.

Time would tell…..

In the meantime he needed to nurture their love….

And that was the best growth of all…..

THE END (for now)


End file.
